


Creative Process

by moodwriter



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician)
Genre: Angst, Explicit Sexual Content, Hurt, M/M, Pining, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-09
Updated: 2012-10-09
Packaged: 2017-11-15 23:17:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 33,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/532853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodwriter/pseuds/moodwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Creating something together. Without realizing it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a hurtful story. When I wrote it way back when it nearly ended me. Still, it's a love story, and it has a warm undertone.

They fall into a steady routine during the months of planning the new album. Tommy can't even remember how it all started. Maybe he stayed at Adam's place after a get-together with the glam troupe, or maybe Adam wanted to watch a movie with him, and they just ended up doing _this_ instead of watching the actual movie. 

He has entertained the thought of asking Adam about it, but that might lead to something Tommy doesn't want to face. This is nice. He wants to keep it. 

He's lying on his stomach on Adam's bed, head facing the foot of the bed, legs bent from the knee. He's swaying his feet from side to side, so comfortable it takes him a while to even notice it. 

It's his typical spot, and Adam's bed is big enough for both of them.

Adam is leaning against the pillows, a line of concentration between his brows as he writes longhand. Tommy doesn't even have to look at him to know this. That line is always there when he creates something, when he writes lyrics. 

Adam starts to hum the new melody quietly, and that's the thing that makes these moments blissfully pleasant: Adam's voice, the one that comes out without words. It's soft, luring, beautiful beyond words. 

They write together. He's never created this much music, and if he tries to think about it the whole thing scares him a little. Adam makes him want to create something long-lasting and memorable, something real, something that makes Adam's voice waver a little. He hasn't succeeded yet, but that has become his goal. He has no idea why, but it doesn't matter. And yeah, it's for Mouthlike, but a part of him is writing for Adam, too. For now.

Tommy looks at the sheets of paper he has spread on top of the duvet. He's trying to figure out which parts of the new song he's supposed to keep. He always has too much material because he just picks up his guitar and starts to play, finding new sounds that fit together and before he knows it there's just too much of it, more than he can handle. Rough drafts that need polishing, his doom. 

"Need help?" Adam asks, but Tommy just shakes his head. Adam always asks, and he always refuses. The only thing he needs from Adam is his presence. 

Over the past two weeks Tommy has gone home twice. He sleeps in Adam's guest room, and neither of them ever raises the issue. It's consuming, the creative process, and they probably wouldn't even eat if there weren't the endless possibilities of ordering food. 

It wasn't supposed to happen like this. He's not writing songs _with_ Adam, not for his album anyway. Adam is constantly meeting all those wonderfully creative people who help him put together the album he wants. Tommy is not a part of that. But this, what they are doing here, is personal. All the songs will go out there someday, but right now, they are just for them. 

Tommy knows somewhere in the back of his mind that he's spending too much time with Adam. He spends time at Adam's house even when Adam isn't here. Sometimes. 

The only time he stays the fuck away is when Adam's boyfriend comes to visit. But when he's gone they fall back into the same pattern. This time Tommy even brought his bass. Usually he only has his acoustic guitar with him.

"Are you staying for the night?" Adam asks, and Tommy shrugs, not sure what to say. They never talk about it. Why talk about it now? 

Tommy turns to look at Adam over his shoulder. "Want me to go?"

Adam stares at him, tilts his head, smiles. "Stay."

He wants to think that this is nothing, but it's hard when that smile makes him both light-headed and mellow at the same time. He doesn't want to go there, doesn't want to ask questions that would only make things difficult. So he settles for, "Wanna order a pizza?"

Adam pats his stomach. "It all goes here." He laughs, eyes sparkling, the notebook falling off his lap. 

"Chinese? Thai? Indian? What?" Tommy takes his cellphone out of the back pocket of his jeans. "Anything."

"Mexican?" Adam says with a smirk. His face is incredibly expressive, always shifting from emotion to emotion, showing everything he feels. That was the first thing Tommy noticed about Adam Lambert, and it still amazes him after all this time.

Tommy pouts, then bites his lower lip. "I think we've had Mexican the past five days. You're pampering me."

"Finally he notices," Adam mutters, and gets up, staring down at Tommy. 

"What? I can't be a little slow when I'm in hermit mode?" 

Adam goes to the master bathroom, but before he closes the door, he says, "Order whatever you want."

Tommy stares at his phone, thinking, going through his options, and then finds the number of his favorite Indian restaurant that's close by. Butter Chicken it is. 

Once he's made the call he gets up and goes to find his acoustic guitar. He sits down with the guitar in his lap, and goes through the parts of the song he has so far. It's melancholy like everything he writes. He sometimes thinks that there's an old man living inside of him, hurt old man with bitter old thoughts, because there's just so much sadness in everything that comes out of him. He's not gray; his soul is not tired. It's just his songs.

"That's beautiful," Adam says, leaning against the door frame. 

"Want to write lyrics for it?"

He's never asked this, and Adam looks like Tommy just punched him in the gut. "Mike wouldn't mind?" Adam manages to say.

Tommy laughs. "Why would he? Not everything I make has to be for Mouthlike."

Adam comes to sit next to him, takes his note book, and asks Tommy to play it again. "It doesn't have a bridge," Adam says after a while. 

He looks at Adam, knows that he's right. "Fuck..." He doesn't leave things out on purpose, but he doesn't include everything either just because they are supposed to be there. But a good song, the kind that doesn't bore people to death, needs a bridge: a part that doesn't get repeated. 

Tommy plays the part where the bridge should be, and adds something to the song, something that sounds like it's been there all along. How he does that is beyond him. It's crazy scary to create something out of nothing, but he does it anyway because he can. 

"Write it down," Adam says, giving one of the music sheets to him. 

He does that, playing, then writing the chords down, and playing again. "What do I leave out?" he asks once he's finished. "It's too long."

"Bohemian Rhapsody is 5:55 minutes long," Adam reminds him. 

"I'm no Mercury," Tommy says, feeling oddly out of his game. It's been a long day, his back hurts, and even his stomach makes funny noises. It's good he ordered food. 

Adam's smile spreads wide. "No, but you're you. There's no one quite like you."

The statement makes him blush. It's so sudden, and so freely given that he has no idea how to take it. "Thanks." He pushes his hair off his face so he has something to do with his hands. 

"I mean it," Adam says, vehement all of a sudden. 

Tommy laughs, the sound getting caught in his throat. He loves what he does. He loves everything about it, but there are times when he wishes he could be so much better at it. 

Tommy's phone rings before Adam says anything else, and he is irrationally happy about it. The delivery guy is at the gate, and Adam goes to let him in.

They're almost half way through eating before they start talking again. Hunger is something they don't realize until it's there full force. It's stupid, but Tommy doesn't mind. 

"When's your next gig?" Adam asks between mouthfuls of food. 

"In the beginning of April." Tommy looks at Adam through his bangs. "Will you come?" That's something he's never asked before, either. Monte doesn't expect it because the venues are small, and Adam would get noticed, but it would be cool to have him there. The gigs are fun, if a little odd because people are there to see him, too, and they don't always behave. He can't for the life of him figure out why anyone would think that there's something glamorous about him. He maybe looks a bit different, but he's never been anything but what he is: a complete nerd. That's why he finds it utterly weird that anyone would think that he's awesome. Yeah, he loves music, but that's about it. It's the only thing he can do, no back up plan whatsoever. 

It takes him a while to realize that Adam hasn't said anything. He focuses on Adam again and notices his stare. "What?"

"Nothing. I'm just... nothing." Adam cleans the table, puts the plates into the washing machine, and takes the leftovers to the fridge. 

"What? Tell me."

Adam has a dishcloth in his hand, and he's wiping the kitchen sink and the counters, deep in thought. It amuses Tommy; it always has. Adam likes cleaning because it's like meditation to him. "We've been doing this a lot lately," Adam says quietly. It sounds like he doesn't want to say it out loud. 

"Yeah." He wants Adam to leave the matter alone. It's working, no need to fix something that's not broken. 

"Why?" Adam asks, and turns to face Tommy. 

Yeah, that one. Adam just couldn't hold it in. "I don't know. It's good. Why not?"

Adam sighs. "I read things. I read people." He looks straight at Tommy. "I read you, too."

He tries not to tense. "What do you read?"

"I have no idea. That's why I'm asking."

"You want to know why we spend so much time together?" Tommy doesn't want to even tiptoe around the issue. 

Adam brushes a hand through his hair, then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "No." He sighs. "I want to know if I need to be careful somehow."

Now he's completely lost. "Careful how?"

"Never mind." Adam turns around, and goes to the kitchen door. "Let's see if we can do something about the song. We need to go to sleep soon."

Tommy scowls at the back of Adam's head. This is ridiculous. Adam knows he can say anything to him. He should have been able to say this, too. But Adam can read people, and he probably read loud and clear that Tommy definitely didn't want to talk about it. He gets up and slowly follows Adam. He feels self-conscious, like he caused something there without realizing it. 

He sits next to Adam on the bed, picks up his guitar, and starts playing. At least this way, he doesn't have to think. Adam writes, asking every now and then for Tommy to play a certain part of the song. 

At some point, Tommy checks the time, and it's already past two. To him it's still early, but to Adam it's late. He's learned to adjust his sleeping patterns while staying with Adam, which means he goes to sleep earlier than he usually does. Or at least he goes to bed. Sleeping happens if it happens. 

"It's getting late," Tommy says, watching Adam and the messy page he's tapping with his pen. "Can I see it?"

Adam shakes his head, smiling. "Later."

Tommy yawns, then stretches his back and arms. "I think I'm actually sleepy."

"You?" 

He pokes at Adam's side with his forefinger, but gets up before Adam can retaliate. "Yeah, me. I'm off. Good night."

Adam stops him with one word. "Tommy."

It sounds so serious, like everything they are is on the line. "What?" He doesn't turn around. 

"Are we good?"

What does that even mean? Now he wants to ask why. "Why wouldn't we be?" he says because he doesn't know what else to say. He does know, though, that he'll be going home tomorrow. 

Adam laughs a strained little laugh. "I feel like something's different. I don't... I haven't said anything because... well, this just happened. But we can't deny that something isn't going on, and I can't..." Adam is babbling, and clearly trying to gain control over his stupid mouth. He just won't shut up. "You know you mean the world to me, don't you?"

Yeah, he does. "I know," he says, pausing a little. "I'll go home tomorrow."

Adam lets out a sharp sound. "I didn't mean that."

"I know that too. Still... home." He's determined now. He just wants to get out of Adam's bedroom, out of his house, out. He should jump into his car, and just drive away. Easier. "Good night." He leaves before Adam can say anything else. 

He can't sleep. Of course there's something going on. He's such an idiot. He thinks about the past weeks, the past months, the way he's become more and more attached to Adam. It took time, but he's here now. Needing. 

When he's been awake for two hours, surfing the net, reading a book about the tour life of the Rolling Stones, thinking, he finally gets up and goes to the kitchen. He finds Adam there sitting at the table, drinking water. 

"Morning," Adam says. It's not even five yet. It's not morning. It's the middle of the night. 

Tommy nods, and goes to the fridge. He wants juice, anything sweet that will take this bitterness out of his mouth. Adam has apple juice. He knows because he did the grocery shopping. 

He sits opposite Adam. "I think I'm addicted to you," he says, and Adam looks at him, surprised as hell. "I breathe better when you're around. I feel good here. I'm sorry."

"For what?" Adam says even though he could have said so many other things.

Tommy smiles, tired beyond belief. "For pushing the boundaries. I shouldn't have stayed for so long."

Adam eyes him, serious but quietly accepting. "I don't really mind. I just don't... I don't want to make a mess."

"Mess?" Tommy looks at Adam in the eyes, still smiling. "There's nothing but mess inside my head."

"Just be happy, okay? I don't want you to be unhappy."

How could he be unhappy when he has almost everything he's ever dreamed of? "Adam, there's not much that could make me happier."

"What are we talking about?" Adam sounds as lost as he looks. Tommy feels sorry for him, but he has no answers. 

He laughs a little, hides it behind his hand. "I'm too tired to think... But we might be on thin ice right now."

"Why?"

"Because nobody has ever been this important to me." There. He said it. 

Adam just looks at him, eyes shadowed by tired thoughts. 

"So yeah, I'm going home today." He leans over the table, and rests his head against his arms. He feels sad all of a sudden. "I'm going home."

Adam reaches out, almost touches his hand, but then pulls back. There are shadows everywhere on his face now. He never guards his expressions around Tommy. Now he does it. Doesn't want to hurt him. Ever. That hurts him more than anything. 

He gets up because he can't take it anymore. "Try to sleep some more," he says before he leaves the kitchen. 

Tommy packs his stuff, puts his guitars back to their cases, wonders how he's managed to carry so many things with him. Like he's planned on staying longer, like he'd never leave. 

He has to take two trips to his car because there's just too many things. He realizes he hasn't taken anything back when he's gone home. He's just brought new things with him every time. He wonders if Adam's boyfriend has noticed it. He crushes the thought before it spreads further. 

Adam is standing by the door, ankles crossed, his t-shirt riding up because he's leaning against the frame, hand high above his head. He's not saying anything so Tommy doesn't say anything either. He just waves his hand good-bye. _See you._

His eyes burn when he drives off. He stops at the lights, not caring that it's green. He breathes deep, calms himself. People talk. He's heard a million stories about him and Adam. None of them come close to the truth. He wishes he knew the truth. 

 

To be continued...


	2. Chapter 2

_I can't see the stars anymore living here  
Let's go to the hills where the outlines are clear_

_Bring on the wonder  
Bring on the song  
I pushed you down deep in my soul for too long_

_I fell through the cracks at the end of our street  
Let's go to the beach, get the sand through our feet_

_Bring on the wonder  
Bring on the song  
I pushed you down deep in my soul for too long_

 

[Bring on the wonder](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zb0x4_2xocY) by Susan Enan

 

Tommy manages to get home in one piece, but it's difficult since a part of him is not there, not driving, not seeing anything. He calls Mike to help him with his stuff even though it's too early, and he shouldn't be so thoughtless, but he needs it, needs to get inside as fast as he can. 

When Mike comes down he only looks at Tommy once and knows how shitty he feels. He doesn't say anything, though, and in return, Tommy doesn't apologize for waking him up. Friends are assholes sometimes, and on those rare occasions they're allowed to be just that. 

In his room, behind closed doors, he just stares at the wall, and listens to his frantic heartbeats. He's still trying not to think, still trying to push everything behind a wall. But everything is crumbling down inside him. 

"Fuck," he mutters, hugging himself. "Fuck," he repeats because right now the wall inside him is so thin he can see through it. What's behind it is not pretty. 

His eyes are hurting because he's dead tired, because he feels like crying but can't. He wants to talk to someone, but he doesn't want anyone knowing what goes inside his head now. 

His phone rings. It's the umpteenth time, but he won't answer it now either. He won't talk to Adam until some of this is somehow under his control again. He hopes it won't take forever. 

Tommy lies down, curls into a ball, his shoes and jacket still on, nothing at all making him feel like he could ever get over this. 

He wakes up after nine hours of solid sleep. The day is at its peak, the sun shining through the curtains, bringing warmth at its wake. 

The minute he's awake enough to think, he remembers why he's not at Adam's place. It sucks. Everything fucking sucks. And there's nothing he can do to his head. The thoughts are there, no matter how much he wants to wipe them away. 

Tommy reaches for his phone out of habit, and curses himself for it. He has ten text messages, seventeen missed calls, two e-mails, and even one Twitter direct message. He wants to throw his phone to the other end of the room, but it's too expensive so he settles for sliding it under his pillow. 

There's a foul taste in his mouth, and he's sweaty from lying in direct sunlight for hours. He has to do something about his icky self. 

It takes a lot of effort to climb out of the bed, but he finally manages, taking off his jacket and toeing off his shoes.

Mike has gone to work, but there's a note on their kitchen table: "Shower, shave, brush your teeth, get dressed, and go out. Whatever it is, it won't kill you. Talk to you later." Tommy smiles at that. Yeah, it won't kill him. It might cripple him, though. 

He does what Mike told him, except that he stays in. There's something he needs to do. 

Tommy sits on the sofa with his laptop, finds his photo folders, and starts going through them. He starts from August, but quickly goes back to as late as May. 

He finds his evidence there, from all the personal photos of Adam and him. There aren't that many because Adam doesn't care about pictures, but the ones that he can find tell a tale. And the tale is the same that is now crushing easily through the wall inside him. It's in his eyes, the way he looks at Adam when he doesn't realize it. Their friends have managed to capture some of those moments on camera, and one particular picture hits him hard. They're in a restaurant, their booth full of smiling people, half-eaten food in front of them, and everyone else is looking at the camera except Adam and him. They are gazing at each other, and Adam is brushing his hand through Tommy's hair. There's a shy smile on his face, and Adam seems to be saying something important to him. They look like lovers.

It was taken in June, just before the tour started. 

He closes his eyes and leans his head against the back of the sofa. He's doomed. 

His phone rings again, but he still doesn't know what to say to Adam. He picks it up anyway. 

"Tommy?" Adam asks as though afraid that it's some kind of a trick. 

"Yeah."

Adam is quiet for a few seconds, then says, "I'm there in five minutes. I thought I would have to knock down your door. Or call your landlord. Let me in when I come, okay?"

"Okay." 

Adam hangs up without another word. 

He feels like panicking, but he's too stunned to do that. Instead he just sits there and waits for the buzz that will tell him that Adam is downstairs. 

When it comes he wants to ignore it, that's how cowardly he feels. He drags himself to the door, and waits for Adam there. The first thing he notices is Adam's black mop of hair, then the two Starbucks coffees he's carrying. Adam looks like he hasn't slept at all since Tommy left, but his eyes are not clouded, and that's the only thing that really matters. 

His knees go weak when Adam smiles to him, and he has to take hold of the door. 

"Hi," Adam says, and looks at him for a long time. It feels to Tommy like he's trying to scan him, see everything that he's hiding. 

Tommy's smile is far from real, but at least it's there. "Hey." 

They stand there a little while longer, staring at each other. "Can I come in?" Adam asks, fidgeting. "I don't want to talk here."

Tommy moves a little to let Adam pass him. He closes the door, and follows Adam to the living room, then takes one of the coffees from Adam. 

"What's this?" he asks after tasting the drink. The smile on his face becomes a bit more real because it's sweet and nothing like he usually drinks. 

"White chocolate mocha," Adam says, grinning, and sits on the sofa. 

Tommy realizes too late that his laptop is open and the picture is still there, and the screen saver hasn't yet kicked in. If Adam turns to face it... and he does, following Tommy's stare. _Fuck._

"Oh..." Adam takes the laptop in his hands, puts it on top of his thighs. "It's a good picture," he says. 

Tommy sips his drink, watching Adam carefully. His whole body is rigid, but he tries not to show it. 

"We're like lovers," Adam says, and Tommy almost chokes on his drink. "In the picture," Adam adds quickly. "I meant the picture."

Fuck it. He's not going to take this any more. He takes two huge pillows from the pile at the corner of the living room, and drops them on the floor. "Come sit here," he says, and Adam sets the laptop on the living room table and gets up. 

He sits opposite Tommy, crossing his legs. 

"You want to talk?" Tommy asks. He wants to be sure. He's not going to spill his guts unless Adam is ready to take it. 

Adam nods. 

"Okay, I'll talk." Tommy clears his throat. "This is not going to change anything. I'm not going to disappear on you. I won't stop playing in your band. I won't step between you and your private life. I'll survive." He looks at Adam, half-expecting him to say something. When he doesn't Tommy continues. "I really like you, but it might take me a while to be comfortable around you again." He smiles at that. "Just let me initiate all physical contact." And that makes him laugh. "I can't believe this happened. I can't believe I fell for you. I can't believe that it took me so long to realize it, too. I'm sorry." 

The expression on Adam's face makes him bite his lower lip so he won't laugh. Adam looks bewildered and beyond shocked. "You... what?"

For such a bright guy, Adam can be a bit slow sometimes. "I love you," Tommy says because clearly Adam needs to hear that to get the whole picture. "I'm in love with you."

"What?" Adam closes his eyes, hides his face behind his hands. "What?"

Tommy nods even though he knows Adam can't see it. "It happened. I don't know how or when or anything, but it happened. It's more than just deep friendship, maybe that's why I couldn't see it before. We're so close anyway. I didn't realize that I had developed these feelings for you, too."

Adam groans, like he's in pain. "What do you want me to do?" he asks, so quiet Tommy can barely hear him. 

"Nothing. I'll live with it." He's surprised by how relieved he feels. It's finally out there. He doesn't have to try to hide it anymore. He loves Adam. It's okay. He can survive this. 

Adam looks at him through his fingers, and it's so utterly adorable he doesn't know what to do with the feeling that swells in his chest. It might end up killing him after all. Adam sounds determined when he says, "What? No... I don't want you to be alone with this."

He knows this is the suckiest situation he's ever been in. Adam is in love with someone else. He's supposed to be straight (he still can't go that far as to think of how he would even have a relationship with Adam if it ever came to that). And then there're all the other little things that could be workable if they weren't who they are right now. "I'm not alone. And I wouldn't have told you at all if we hadn't been living together these past weeks. I invaded your life completely, and I'm sorry about that. I didn't mean to. I love writing with you. I love doing anything with you. That's why. It's so easy."

"Oh God... What do you want me to say? I didn't... I kept getting these signals from you, and I just thought it was my imagination and... Tommy, I don't know what I'm supposed to do now. I've never been in this kind of situation. I love you, you know that... I don't..."

He places his palm on top of Adam's knee to comfort him, and it sends a jolt of shock through Adam's body. He takes his hand away quickly. "Sorry... sorry." He pauses, gathering his thoughts. "I know. I don't mind. You can do whatever you want. I don't expect anything. I feel like I messed up somehow. I know we can't control our feelings. I know I can't blame myself, but I feel like I should've known somehow, should've been able to stop it before it happened. But you know what? I don't regret anything. Not a second of what we've done together, who we've been together. So don't. Please don't feel like you should or shouldn't have done some things. I know, okay?"

"I didn't even know that you could fall for me..." Adam sounds like he regrets everything, and Tommy wants to slap him. 

"Stop that."

"I want you to be happy." 

Tommy nods. "I am. This is just a part of my life. One day all of this makes more sense, and it won't mess up our minds any more. I'll find someone, you'll live happily ever after with some beautiful person, and this will just be a distant memory." He looks at Adam in the eyes. "It doesn't have to be bad."

Adam looks hurt. "You sound like it's no big deal. To me it is. Are you sure about... how you feel?"

Yeah, he's sure. He's trying to make the best of it. Adam is not helping. "Right now, I'm barely functioning. Yeah, I'm sure. I'm in a shock. I can't think properly. I'm trying to make it possible for me to do something other than crawl under a rock and die. Okay? Just work with me."

"Sorry."

Yeah, he's sorry, too. So fucking sorry. "I know. Just... can you let me have this? I have to find away out of this hole."

Adam's eyes are huge, beautiful. "Anything. Whatever you need."

"Okay." Tommy tries to put his thoughts in order. "Can you be you to me even when you know?"

Adam nods. He looks so damn sincere. 

"Can we still write together? Can I stay at your place from time to time? Can I pull away when I need to?"

The way Adam stares at him tells him everything he needs to know. Yes, to all three questions. Yes, to anything Tommy needs. 

"Can I trust you not to tell anyone about this? I don't want anyone else to know. I don't want anyone else tiptoeing around me. I don't want anyone being sad for me."

"I won't say anything to anyone... But will you let me talk about this with you?"

"What's there to talk about?" Tommy asks, but then adds, "I'll tell you if things change at some point." 

Adam sighs. "I might need an outlet for this. You know I talk about things to get them out. If I can't talk about this ever... Please."

"Okay. But if I don't feel like it you won't push." 

"I won't," Adam says softly. "Will you let me talk about this now?" 

"Ask anything you need to ask."

Adam's eyes are deep blue and so focused Tommy fears he'll drown in them. "If things were different would you actually want to be with me?"

Tommy feared this question. He has no real answer, only scared little thoughts that spread to that direction. "Honestly, I don't know. Maybe."

"Do you... want me? Do I have to be careful in that sense."

Tommy laughs. "You've always felt good. I don't know if that's any different now. We haven't actually done anything in a long while." 

"One more thing... Do you need me to shut up about him? I can keep him away from you completely if you want that. I won't talk about you with him or the other way around if that's what you want."

He pulls away, leans back as far as he can, resting his weight on his hands. "For now... Yeah. Maybe later I can... Just..." His voice disappears, just abandons him, and Adam looks like he can see all that's inside him, like everything he feels is right there on display, and that kills him, tears him open. He gets up before he breaks in front of Adam.

He goes to stand in front of a window, arms crossed, staring but not seeing anything. He's never been in a situation like this, either. Yeah, he's loved people who haven't loved him back, but never like this. Adam loves him. That makes it worse. He gets all that concern, all that caring, all those beautiful thoughts and ideas, all that they have ever shared. What he doesn't get is almost but not quite there. 

"I'm so sorry," Adam says. He's standing behind Tommy, not touching. "So so sorry."

He gets that, and because he is who he is and because they are who they are, he turns around and hugs Adam, breathing in his scent like he's drowning and that's his oxygen. Adam pulls him closer, doesn't let go. They stay like that for a very long time, seeking comfort and closeness. 

After a while Adam pulls back a little, cups his face, looks him in the eyes, and kisses his forehead. "You'll always be special to me."

That's like salt in his wounds, and he nearly cries out. "You should go," he says, and he's proud because his voice doesn't crack. Maybe someday he'll be happy collecting the crumbs Adam is offering, but right now he can't. 

Adam doesn't let go. "I don't wanna leave you."

"I'll be back," he whispers because it's the whole fucking truth. He couldn't stay away even if he wanted to. 

Tommy lets his hands slide past Adam's sides to his abdomen, and he pushes at Adam, not hard but hard enough to let Adam know that it's over. "Go. I'll be fine. I'll survive."

"I don't want you to survive. I want you to live, love, and celebrate."

"I know. We don't always get what we want." He thinks about it some more and adds, "Besides, I don't think this will be all bad. I get to experience something new. It'll be interesting."

Adam laughs a little, then finally lets go of Tommy's face. "I don't want to hurt you," he says, swallowing hard. 

Tommy nods, then takes Adam's hand and leads him to the front door. "Go now. Call me when you're free. I'll come hang out." 

When Adam is gone Tommy sags against the door and sighs. One more minute and he would have shattered wide open, all walls gone. He doesn't know how to do any of this. He only knows that he can't live without Adam.


	3. Chapter 3

The days are bearable. He does a lot of things, with Mike, with other friends, alone. He spends an awful amount of time in front of his TV, watching every movie he can think of that doesn't have any resemlance to anything romantic. He reads more than he's ever read in his life. He drowns himself in entertainment. The only cliche thing he doesn't do is drink excessively. He promised himself he wouldn't do it; he's not that rock 'n' roll. 

The nights kill him. He can't sleep. And when he can't sleep he thinks. And when he thinks the only direction his thoughts take is Adam. He thinks about everything they've done together, thinks about the tour, thinks about playing with him, thinks about kissing him, thinks about the way they work together, how comfortable they are. 

He mourns the loss of everything that could have been, and he can't stop himself from wondering if maybe things would have been different if he'd known sooner, if he'd just asked the right questions earlier. He knows it's the worst possible route to take, but he has to go there, has to see all the possible outcomes. 

Tommy lets friends pull him out of the hole he's trying to bury himself in. He lets them convince him that he's good enough, that he's precious and fun and worth their time. Everyone seems to notice that he's not hundred percent there, that something's going on under the surface, but they don't ask because he doesn't want to talk about it. 

Monte takes time off from his family to come jam with him, shows him tricks, makes him laugh, and he's so grateful he can't put it into words. Isaac calls him over, and they watch the whole first season of Bones, munching on popcorn and Sophie's mud cakes. They all make him see that the world is still out there, that nothing stopped, nothing left him broken or unable to function. He's still here. 

He just feels like a part of him went missing when he told Adam the truth. 

The first time he sees Adam after his confession is weird as hell. He goes to Adam's place even though a neutral ground would have probably been better, but he's never been a safe player. Not in his nature. Head first. Everywhere. 

It's been almost two weeks because Adam decided to give him time. The idiot. He should've called the next day. It's like with horses: if you fall off you have to get back in the saddle right away. It's going to be so much more difficult later. Like this now. 

Adam is looking at him with his big, blue-green eyes, just staring, ogling, like Tommy is some kind of a rare species. "You came," he says, and sounds like he expected the opposite. 

"I even brought food," Tommy says. "And my guitar." 

Adam just stands there, won't let him in. "God, I've missed you." 

"Should've called sooner, then," Tommy mutters, and expects Adam to move but he doesn't. His hands are full so he can't even do anything about it. "What?"

"You. Here." 

Tommy freezes. If Adam doesn't stop this he's not sure what he's going to do. Fucking scream like a teenage girl, maybe. "Yeah, me here. The food is getting cold. Let me in."

Adam scoops him into his arms, bags and all, and Tommy helplessly lets him. "Missed you." This is why falling for affectionate people is so fucking awesome. They tend to be very touchy-feely, even when it's not the right thing to do. His chin rests against Adam's chest, and his nose is somewhere close to Adam's bare neck, close to that scent. Adam's arms are around his back, lifting him up, and he's standing on his tiptoes, out of balance. It's humiliating. 

He drops his bags, and grabs the sides of Adam's shirt, fists tight, holding Adam close. "Fuck you, fucker," he whispers. "You should've called sooner."

Adam nods, his cheek brushing against the side of Tommy's head. "Should've, could've, would've... But I wanted to give you time."

"Figured." He wants to add: _didn't help_ but doesn't. There's no way he's going to make Adam feel miserable. 

The funny little laugh Adam lets out makes his heart twist. "Okay, I don't wanna let go. Can I just keep you here for the rest of the evening. Comfy." 

Tommy relaxes into the hug, doesn't give a damn how much it hurts. "You can keep me," he says, distantly realizing that he did more than just answered Adam's question. Yeah, his stupid life. 

He lets go of Adam's shirt and slides his hands behind Adam's back, slips his arms around him. He feels warm. 

"Are you purring?" Adam asks, his tone light, full of silver chimes. 

"Almost."

Adam brushes his hair back, touches his cheek and neck, holds him. "You're the cutest person ever. Just so you know."

He's not. His pants are always falling off. He looks funny in a beard. He bites his lips and nails all the time. He annoys people with his never-ending love for poking at things just because he needs to see what happens if he does. Not cute. 

Tommy purrs a little anyway because he knows it amuses Adam. He wouldn't do it for anyone else. 

Adam's smile is in his voice. "That's it. I'mma tape that one day when you're too tired to notice."

He couldn't care less. He has the right to be silly because his heart is broken and he deserves all the good things he can get. This is one of them. "I'm hungry. Let me eat before my dinner is all ruined."

The way Adam lets him go tells him just how reluctant he is to do that. He lingers, touches Tommy's arm, holds on to his waist, steps back. "Do I have to?"

"Yeah." He looks at his feet because all of a sudden looking at Adam isn't an option. It sucks to be him. 

Adam takes a few steps back, grabbing one of the plastic bags Tommy brought with him. "Did you empty the whole restaurant?" He tries to peek inside, but the bags are tied. 

"I'm hungry, okay," he says, taking off his shoes. 

Adam leads him to the kitchen, and tells him to sit down and wait. He does that, watching Adam as he takes out plates, wine glasses, knives, forks, napkins, the whole nine yards, moving graciously around his kitchen. Tommy would have eaten straight from the containers, drinking beer from a plastic cup. He hides a smile behind his hand, coughing a little. 

"What? I can't be nice?" Adam takes a bottle of red wine out of his wine cabinet, and shows it to Tommy. "This one okay?"

Tommy laughs, can't hold it in any more. "You're wasting good wine on me."

Adam huffs. "I'm drinking it, too." 

"Whatever," he says, leaning back in his chair, relaxing a little more. It's easy; he can do this. "Just sit down already. I haven't eaten anything."

Adam stares at him. "For how long?" he asks quietly. 

He knows he's skinnier, and Adam's eyes on him make him even more aware of it. He's wearing a hoodie, but it can't hide everything. "I forget, okay. It's nothing."

It's clear Adam wants to push the matter, but he doesn't. He just sits down, and opens the first bag. Tommy went a little overboard at the restaurant, ordering all his favorites. There are five different Thai dishes there, mostly curry with lots of coconut milk, but also street noodles and soup. The smell is delicious, and his stomach cramps. God, he's ravenous. He grabs a spoon and fills his plate with rice, then takes the red curry container and pours most of it on top of the rice. 

Adam pours him wine, and he tastes it, grimacing a little. Thai food is not wine food, but when Adam wants something, nothing stops him. 

They eat in silence. Tommy doesn't have to look at Adam to know that he's watching him. He feels exposed, and it annoys him. "Stop that," he says after a while because it really bothers him. 

"What?" 

"Stop staring at me. I'm fine."

Adam wipes his mouth with a napkin, then leans over the table, chin resting on top of his crossed fingers. "I'm not staring at you because you have dark circles under your eyes, or because you've lost weight. I'm staring at you because there's something different about you, and I can't figure out what it is. It's just fascinating." 

Tommy dares to look at him, and Adam smiles, saying, "Sorry. You said you wanted me to be myself with you. This is me. But I'll try to be less obvious about things if it bothers you."

"Less obvious about what?"

"About being curious. You're interesting to me, always have been. Everything you do fascinates me. I don't know yet how much I can still say or do; I haven't yet learned any of the possible limitation. I don't know how much you can take." He pauses, closes his eyes. "I don't want to hurt you, but at the same time you ask me to be who I am. This is me. This person who misses you and wants to hug you and can be nothing but intrigued by everything that you are. So tell me, what should I do?"

He feels heavy, like every bone in his body is made of lead, and there's nothing but pressure in his chest. He feels distant and so fucking lonely it's just not possible to do this. "Nothing hurts me more than you trying not to hurt me. I'd rather have you crushing everything in me with your overly enthusiastic way of loving people than slowly killing me with artificial distance that's for my own good." Big words coming out of his mouth. Big fucking words. "But I'm going to be pissed at you. I'm going to tell you to stop, to fuck off, to just leave me alone. Because I can't take this, because it's fucking killing me, okay? But I don't want you to be anything else, ever. Don't change. Don't stop being who you are. Please. I couldn't live with that." He's crying now, and he can do nothing about it. Nothing. He looks at Adam, wants him to see what he means, wants him to swallow it, accept it, take it. Every last bit of it. "I don't want to lose you," he says. "Okay?" 

Adam looks like he wants to get up, wants to comfort him in some way, but he doesn't because Tommy is all spikes now. He'd lash out if Adam even tried. "Okay," Adam says.

"Good." Tommy wipes his face, not even embarrassed any more. He's beyond that now. "Let me deal with this. I'll tell you when something is too much, but I still probably want you to do it. And I promise you I'll be stupid, too."

There's a little hint of a smile in Adam's eyes. "We'll be stupid together then. I don't mind. I just want to be sure I can't help you in any way. Can I?"

"There's nothing you can do."

"Then I won't try."

"Thank you." 

Adam leans back, watches Tommy for a little while, then says, "I know what's different about you."

"What?"

"You're more focused."

That surprises him completely. His expression tells Adam just how much.

"You have this certain kind of air about you always, like you don't concentrate on the surrounding world all that much. Right now, it's gone. You're painfully present."

Tommy doesn't know what to say to that. "Is that a good thing?" he finally asks. 

"Yeah, it is." Adam stands up, moving away from the table. "Let's go play with songs," he says. 

"What about the plates, the food?" Tommy asks, but Adam just shakes his head, laughing. He doesn't care right now; he just wants to spend time with him. Tommy smiles at his back, smiles at the way Adam's eyes sparkled. He won't shimmer away; he won't let shadows guard his face. Adam gave his word.


	4. Chapter 4

Tommy stops at the door of Adam's bedroom, amazed by the fact that he managed to forget where they've been writing these past few months. Adam's bed is huge, but that doesn't make it any easier for him to approach it. He feels stupid for letting this affect him. He wants to push everything somewhere deep inside him where he can't feel or think anything out of ordinary. He wonders if everything will be different from now on. 

"We can write somewhere else," Adam says, his voice cautious.

Tommy shrugs. "No, it's fine." He opens his guitar case, sits on the edge of Adam's bed, and takes the guitar into his hands. It makes him breathe easier; this is something he knows inside out. His fingers fly over the strings, his heart beating slower, calm in a way it hasn't been in days. He gets lost in the music, forgets where he is, and just plays because it's something he does better than anything else. 

When he stops he feels stronger, like he's on familiar ground. 

Adam is looming over his notebook, writing, biting the end of his pen, doodling something on the side of the page. The line of concentration is back between his brows, and it makes Tommy smile. At least some things never change. 

He starts playing again, trying to figure out how to make the song shorter. He hopes Adam's lyrics will give him a frame to work with because this is the part he's never really mastered. 

They sit there for hours, not talking, exchanging a few ideas every now and then, sharing only what needs to be shared. Songs appear through Tommy's playful fingers, but he doesn't write them all down. Sometimes he lets the melodies fade away, lets them exist only for the moment, and then something else hits him and he has to put it on paper, quickly before he forgets. It's guess work, and it isn't. Instinct and faith and trust, all mixed together.

Finally Adam leans back, rubbing his neck and groaning loudly. "I ache," he whines. "I think I'm getting old."

Tommy puts his guitar down, and points at the notebook. "Can I see it now?"

"It's not finished." Adam looks embarrassed. "I suck today."

"Just show me."

Reluctantly, Adam hands him the notebook. "Last page. Not finished."

Tommy flips through the pages, somewhere in the back of his mind appreciating the way Adam's words flow on the pages. He reads. 

_A Thousand Lives_

_Within me there is you,  
a thread spreading   
down, down, down to my soul,  
simplifying me  
like nothing I've ever   
experienced before  
You keep me connected  
to the finest moment,   
to my past, to my present  
To everything in between_

_I wish I could live  
a thousand lives  
so I could live with you  
a thousand times  
I wish I could have  
a thousand lives  
then maybe you would be   
in one of them  
Be in one of them_

"It fits the melody," Tommy says and gives the book back to Adam. "It's good. You can make it work." 

"I want to change the word 'experienced', but I have no idea what to do with it. And I think 'soul' should be something different, too. I like the chorus, though."

Tommy nods. The chorus works for him, too, and he likes the flow of it. "What else have you been up to?" 

He's never asked this before, and it takes Adam by surprise. "Just bits and pieces," Adam says quietly. "I know what I want to do, but I can't seem to do it. I want to share moments, real moments, the kind that created Broken Open. But nothing seems to click exactly the way I want." Adam bites his lower lip. "You can take a look if you want to."

Tommy hesitates for a second, then takes the book back. Their fingers brush, but it feels okay, something that's happened often enough to be normal, and it makes him happy somehow. He feels comfortable here, like this is their own reality and normal rules don't apply. 

He reads what Adam has written, going through page after page, sometimes even unable to read his chicken scratches. Yeah, Adam was right. It's all bits and pieces, part from here another from there, nothing that fits together, no thread spreading through everything. He looks at Adam, biting his cheeks. "You've finished at least one, haven't you?"

"One," Adam agrees. "And it's been months. I should be able to do this, but I second guess everything: is this real enough?" He groans, burying his face into his hands. "Fuck. It was so much easier to write something the first time."

"You're putting too much pressure on yourself. You want it to be perfect."

"I want it to be perfect for them. I want it to work. I want it to give something. Anything. Something good. Something..."

Tommy brushes Adam's hair back, strokes the side of his head. "Hey, it will work." 

Adam doesn't say anything, just breathes quietly. 

"Want me to go through them and tell you if I see anything that connects them?" he asks, still stroking Adam's hair. Adam radiates warmth, and because Tommy tossed the hoodie aside at some point his bare arm feels it clearly. It's nothing much, but it annoys him that he even notices it. He wants to be immune to things like these. 

He pulls away, rests his hand against his knee, and hopes that Adam won't look at him just now. 

Adam mumbles something Tommy can't hear. 

"What?"

"I need a drink."

It's Friday. Technically they could go somewhere. "Wanna go out?" 

Adam finally reveals his face, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You'd go out with me?"

 _I'd do anything with you._ "Yeah."

"Choose a place. VIP? Some shady gay bar at the outskirts of LA? What would you like?"

Tommy thinks about it, the ways in which it could be a lot of fun. "A gig? Something weird neither of us has ever heard?"

Adam loves the idea, his face lighting up fast. He gets up, looks at Tommy with a critical eye and says, "Your pants are fine, but the shirt needs to go. Did you leave anything here?"

He shakes his head. "I don't think so."

Adam frowns. They both know that anything of Adam's would look too big on him. "Oh..." Adam says, stepping around the bed. "I have just the perfect thing for you to wear." He goes to his walk-in closet, disappearing from Tommy's view, and spends at least three minutes there, searching. "I've had it washed," Adam says as he emerges, and when Tommy looks at him pointedly, he corrects himself, " _Mom_ had it washed." 

He unfolds the shirt, and Tommy recognizes it immediately. It's purple and slightly see-through: his shirt from Fantasy Springs. 

"You have it?" He thought he'd lost it. 

There's a hint of embarrassment in Adam's eyes. "Yeah... I was supposed to give it back to you, but I forgot. I loved it." 

Tommy holds his hand out, and Adam gives the shirt to him. He's already pulling his t-shirt over his head before he even thinks that there's something odd about their situation now. He decides he doesn't care because Adam isn't the only one who loved the shirt. He puts it on, starts buttoning it down, walking towards Adam's mirror, loving the feel of the fabric against his skin. "Yeah... This one. Can I have the necklace, too?"

Adam nods and goes to get it. All his accessories are in the walk-in closet as well. He has so many things nowadays that the extra room is perfect for his clothes, shoes, accessories, and make up. His whole life is one big dress-up. Tommy finds it adorable, but he would never say that to Adam - out of respect and the sheer mortification of him ever using adorable and Adam in the same sentence. 

When Adam returns Tommy has managed to put the shirt on properly, and he's checking himself in the mirror. It looks great on him even though he's lost a bit too much weight. His hair is not quite as blond as it was back then, but he's shaved the sides again and the color is even, a bit more to the colder side of blond. He looks good, even to his own eyes. 

Adam comes to stand behind him, then looks him in the eyes through the mirror. "May I?" 

Tommy nods, appreciating the fact that Adam asked. Before, he didn't have to, but things have changed between them, and until they figure out how to deal with it some boundaries must be set. It feels right that Adam set this one. 

Adam's fingers brush his skin lightly when he fastens the lock of the necklace, and then lets go, stepping back. "You look gorgeous," he says. 

It's possible Adam is right. He never thought that he was much of a looker until he met Adam. Something just happened. Maybe it was the combination of finally being able to do what he loves, and all the glitter that came with Adam. 

"Let me get ready," Adam says, disappearing back to the walk-in closet. "And check out gigs. My laptop is under the bed."

Tommy fetches the laptop and sits on Adam's bed. He wants a place where they can go without anyone recognizing Adam, something small but still big enough for them to get lost in the audience. He Googles "gigs+LA", and finds what he's looking for after five minutes of surfing. Adam won't like it. He grins mischievously. 

"Where are we going?" Adam shouts, still in the middle of getting ready. He peeks from the doorway, tugging the front of his shirt into his pants. He's dressed down, which is good because they are going to a place where glitter might get them into trouble. Tommy isn't sure if he's too overdressed himself; the necklace probably is too much. 

"We'll go see an Irish punk band."

Adam's expression kills him, and he just has to laugh out loud. 

"Really?"

"Really."

Adam shrugs. "Ditch the necklace then."

Tommy takes it off, then goes to Adam and gives it to him. "Lend me black eyeshadow." 

They quickly paint their eyes dark, and fix their hair, then Adam grabs his leather jacket, and they are ready to go. The gig starts at eleven; they'll be a little late. 

Adam calls his trusted car service, and they send a black Mercedes nobody will look at twice. Adam can move around incognito, but of course he doesn't always succeed in it. Most of the time, though, if he really wants to he can do it. 

From the outside the place looks like a hole in the wall, nothing but the door and the bouncers there. They get inside, squeezing through masses of people. The band has started already, and the crowd is absolutely crazy about them, jumping around, screaming with the singer. 

He follows Adam to the bar, and they order beers. 

This is something he could've been playing, something close to what he was already playing. He could've been in a band like Metallica, succeed through something like that. Sometimes he misses his old days as a metalhead. Maybe that's why he wanted to go here with Adam. Past and present mixing. 

He leans against the bar, watching the crowd. He wants to go there, wants to party with them, wants to let the music wipe away his conscious mind. He finishes his beer quickly, and looks at Adam, nodding to the direction of the front of the stage. "Let's go," he mouths. 

Adam nods, and they push closer to the center of the action. Tommy knows how crazy punk gigs can be, but it's a bit different with this band. They are mostly about fun-crazy and less about violent-crazy. Still, people are climbing on stage and diving to the crowd, but there's something about the Irish folk sounds that keep the crowd on the merrier side of excitement. 

Soon they are jostling against others, moving to the music, raising their hands high above their heads, screaming their lungs dry, and Tommy couldn't be happier than this. Adam is here with him, jumping up and down to a music he hasn't heard before and probably has no interest in hearing again... It's everything to him. This. 

At some point, Adam grabs his elbow and starts to drag him away from the crowd. Once they can hear each other again he yells to Tommy's ear. "Need something to drink." 

Tommy agrees. He's so thirsty he thinks he might be dehydrated. Adam tells him to sit down and wait, and then goes to buy them drinks. Tommy sits at a small, round table, still breathing heavily. He pushes his hair back, face and neck sweaty, his palms a bit wet, too. He feels too good to care. 

Adam comes back with a plate of shots - four to each of them - and two beers, too. Tommy cocks his eyebrow at Adam, but it's good. "We could've started at home," Tommy says. "Would've saved time since you obviously want to get drunk."

"And you don't?" Adam asks, sitting down opposite Tommy. 

"Maybe."

The shots are all different and made skilfully, the colors of the ingredients of the drinks separate, nothing mixing. Tommy downs the first one even though Adam looks like he wants to suggest a toast. "What?" he asks, and takes the second one into his hand. 

"Stop that." Adam puts his hand on top of the glass so Tommy can't drink it. "Wait for me." 

Tommy grins. "Catch up, then." He leans back and manages to free his glass. The drink is down his throat before Adam can even frown. He puts the glass on the table face down and reaches for another one. He looks straight at Adam, mouth twisting, eyes glinting. 

Adam grabs his first drink, brings it close to Tommy's, and they toast. "To wild nights out," Adam says. 

They finish the shots, and then sit for awhile, waiting for the familiar buzz. They talk nonsense, enjoying the rowdy feel of the bar. Tommy feels like everything is in its rightful place. There's nothing he would change, and that alone makes him want to keep this moment forever. 

When they've finished the beers, too, they go back to see the band, back to the craziness. The stage is now full of women from the audience, most of them wearing the band's t-shirt, and they are swaying from side to side while the band plays a love ballad. 

On these gigs people don't record everything. They enjoy. They experience. They feel. Tommy loves that, even though he can completely understand the need to save some of the experience for later. He understands why people film Adam, why they have their cameras ready to capture whatever he might choose to do next. He is creative. He is magnetic. 

The rest of the night goes by in a flash, like he's not seeing or hearing properly, just living through emotions that are partly borrowed from people around him. He leans on Adam when they exit the bar, and Adam guides him to the car, helps him to the backseat, and sits next to him, close. 

Tommy leans his head against Adam's shoulder, sleepy-drunk, and so satisfied he just wants this to continue a little while longer. Adam is talking to him, but he's not listening. He's comfortable enough hearing that low rumble of his voice; he doesn't need the words. 

When the car jerks to a stop he wakes up, smiling because he didn't realize he had fallen asleep. Adam helps him out of the car, and they fumble their way to the front door. 

"Key," Adam says, holding on to Tommy's side. "I have it. Help me."

Tommy puts his hand into Adam's pocket, finding his wallet and phone. "Nope. Try the other one."

Adam looks through the other pockets of his jacket, but finds nothing. "Not here." He's starting to sound frustrated. 

Tommy pushes him against the door, and tells him to stand there, but Adam sways, then starts to fall sideways and Tommy grabs the front of his jacket. It's not much of a help because Tommy is as drunk as Adam, and he's not that strong. Adam weights a ton when he's this lax. Tommy uses his whole body to keep them standing, crushing Adam against the door. "Stay still," he tries to say, but his mouth is not co-operating. "Stay."

"I will," Adam says, eyes closed. "I'm standing." He seems to have forgotten about the key. 

Tommy moves back a little, and puts his hand into the pocket of Adam's jeans. There it is, the damn key. He tries to pull it out, but it won't obey him. "You take it," he tells Adam, but Adam is not responding. Tommy pokes at his side, and Adam jerks awake, giggling. 

"It's here. Fish it out." Tommy holds his hand on top of the key. His other hand is next to Adam's shoulder, holding him in a standing position. 

Adam puts his hand between them, pushing Tommy away just a little so he can get the stupid key. When he gets it out he also drops it to the ground. "Fuck," he mutters, and tries to crouch down, but Tommy is in the way. 

"Let me," Tommy says and goes down on his knees. He can't see much in the dark so he searches with his hands. He's never had this much difficulties in opening one freaking door. It's getting under his skin, annoying him, making him irritated.

Finally he finds the key, and he holds it in his hand, triumphant. He looks up, stares right into Adam's eyes, and realizes how this looks. Adam's hands find his hair, hesitant but loving, so gentle. He closes his eyes. Nothing in him wants to get up, nothing in him wants to stop this. All that is drowned by alcohol, and he knows it. 

Adam says something that sounds awfully close to: "I wish I'd known sooner." It's the first time Adam has acknowledge their situation on a personal level. He hasn't said anything about how he feels, hasn't touched the subject in any way except from Tommy's point of view. This blinds Tommy, and he leans closer, helpless against the pull. He hugs Adam, arms around his thighs, face so close to Adam's crotch he could mouth him through his jeans. He knows it's a mistake. He knows he shouldn't because he'll end up hurt, but he can't help it. Adam is his everything. 

"Let's..." Adam tries to speak but fails. He tries again. "Inside. Tommy?"

He raises his hand up, gives the key to Adam, and then scrambles to his feet. They support each other while Adam tries to locate the lock. "Fuck. I want a key card. It's not working." 

Tommy just waits, thoughts messy and all over the place. He feels like the balance they'd managed to create today got destroyed there. Nothing's the same anymore, and he doesn't know how to deal with that. 

They get inside and close the damn door, still clinging to each other, still trying to stay upright. Tommy gets rid of his shoes, tries to shake off his jacket, but Adam is holding onto it. "Just let me go," he says, then softens it with, "I can stand on my own."

Adam won't listen. He rams Tommy against a chest of drawers, holds Tommy's hands behind his back and against the wooden surface, their knees bumping. Adam is not doing it on purpose. That much Tommy can read, even in this state of mind, but it doesn't change how it makes him feel. He tilts his head back, trying to get away from Adam, but that arches his back, brings him more in contact with Adam's body. 

There's a moment when everything shifts just a little, and Adam pushes his knee between his thighs. His whole body tingles with the sensation, and he can't take it without gasping. It's loud enough for Adam to hear, and it leaves him breathless and scared and a little broken, too. 

"Shhhh..." Adam doesn't do anything, just stays there, pressed against him, his lips close to Tommy's ear. And then he moves his leg, grinding against Tommy, and he breathes shallow little breaths, mouth open, eyes closed tight. He doesn't want to think. He wants Adam never to go away, and he wants Adam to leave him alone. When Adam presses closer, up, his thigh so hot and strong, Tommy groans, tries to free his hands, but Adam holds him down, won't release him, won't let him hold on to anything. The only thing he can do is spread his legs further apart and wrap an ankle around Adam's calf. 

It doesn't even take long. Adam makes him come in that dark, quiet hallway with nothing but his knee between his thighs, nothing but his mouth next to his neck and ear, hands holding his wrists tight. He's shaking to the core before it's over, and drunk or not, he knows this is fucked up. 

Adam kisses his temple, holds him close until the last bit of his orgasm is gone - and even after. He wants to hit Adam; he's never been this angry, never felt this betrayed before. He can't stop trembling. "Fuck off," he says with such a cold voice it scares him, too. 

Adam won't let him go, won't move an inch, but there's desperation in him, something bone deep and wary. "Don't think it's like that," he says, his voice small and quiet. 

He isn't thinking any of it; he's feeling it and it feels fucking wrong. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but you just fucked up everything."

"Please," Adam says like that makes any fucking sense. 

"Let me go," he all but screams. "I'm not a fucking toy you can play with whenever you feel like it."

Adam jerks back, but won't let go. He looks like Tommy just skinned him alive. "I wasn't... I didn't... I would never do that to you."

"What was that then?" He doesn't want to talk about it, but even when he's angry and drunk and messed up he knows that this is Adam, and he never wants to hurt anyone on purpose. "What? Tell me? Make me understand so I won't leave right the fuck now and never come back."

Adam's eyes are pained, his pupils blown. "I don't know. I didn't plan to do that. I didn't... I'd never... I'm not this kind of a person. God, Tommy. I'm so confused. You dropped this bomb on me, and I can't deal with it at all. From the very beginning you've been precious to me, someone I trust and love and find fascinating. I never thought it could be anything but what it's been. And I had a crush on you back then. God. This is just... I can't." Adam pulls away, finally letting go of Tommy's wrists. "I'm so sorry. None of this... I'm sorry."

Tommy tries to come to terms with everything Adam just said there, but all he can think of is Adam having a crush on him at some point. His theory of things maybe being different if he'd asked the right questions earlier just got verified. Sucky fucking world. 

He's still angry, but at least he's not walking away. "Why now then?"

Adam looks lost. "The moment. You kneeling in front of me. Things making so much sense when you're drunk. I don't know."

"Does this mean anything?" He really doesn't want to ask this question because he knows the answer. It's residue of something that was once there. Adam's been dating that guy for months. They're serious with each other, and the guy is a fucking gem, perfect for Adam. He bows his head. "Yeah, don't answer that." 

"I'm sorry. I'm such an asshole. Just don't hate me forever. Please."

Tommy looks at him, tilts his head, thinking. "I can't hate you. Just... If you want me to be anywhere near you don't... Just don't, okay? Ever." He knows it's not necessary for him to say that. He knows Adam won't do it again. He knows Adam loves the guy, and would never want to do anything like that to him. He also knows Adam didn't want to hurt him. Too bad it happened anyway. 

He takes a step towards the bathroom. "I need to shower. Can I have a towel?" 

Adam sighs, looks like his heart has been ripped out of his chest. Tommy feels the same way. 

In the bathroom, he peels off his clothes, hating himself a little for being so weak. If he had been someone stronger, someone who knew better what they wanted, this would have never happened. He can't see how they could ever get back to normal. 

There's a hesitant knock on the door. "I'll leave clean clothes for you here. Just... be okay. Please." 

He clenches his hands into fists, then stalks to the door, opening it carefully. Adam is gone, but there's a pile of clothes there waiting for him. He takes it, and locks the door behind him. 

He showers quickly, dries himself with a light blue towel, and puts Adam's clothes on: boxers, t-shirt, black pajama pants, and socks. Everything is too big, and he feels too self-conscious in them. He forces that feeling somewhere deep down, then throws his own clothes to the laundry basket. He'd burn them right now, but it's a good thing he can't. He loves the shirt, and the pants aren't bad either. 

Tommy goes to the guest room, tries not to think too much. That seems to be all he does nowadays. 

Before he gets under the covers Adam knocks on the door and waits for Tommy's answer. Adam is in his sleep clothes as well, all make up gone, his eyes tired and apologetic. 

Tommy can't deal with another apology. 

"Just wanted to see if you're okay," Adam says, sweet and beautiful and so not what Tommy wants right now. 

"Am I?" he asks because he feels like being a bastard. 

The question surprises Adam, makes him bite the side of his thumb. "You're angry, but you don't want me to apologize," he says softly. 

That about sums it up. "I want you to stop. I don't want this from you. Be you, but don't try to give me anything. You'll mess up things if you try." 

Adam lets out a strange sound, a choked breath. 

So he guessed correctly. Adam doesn't usually have ulterior motives, but this time Tommy was right. Adam hasn't been listen to him. He still tries to be something to Tommy, tries to give something, tries so much that he'll end up destroying them completely. "Just stop. You can't."

"I want you to get what you want."

Tommy shakes his head. "You're fucking stupid, Lambert if you think I can get it from you like this. Stop. I'm not going to let you." 

Adam hits the wall next to the door, anger flaring in him. He hurts himself, skin breaking. "Fuck." 

A part of him is happy even though nothing is easy or makes any kind of sense, but he's happy because even though Adam is still holding back he's also showing how difficult this is for him, too. He can deal with that. 

He can't deal with anything fake. 

"You can't have everything. You can't keep him if you try to make me happy. There's nothing you can do. Accept it." 

Adam looks at him with the expression of a petulant child. "Why did you have to fall for me? Why now?" 

That hurts him. "I didn't choose it."

"I know that," Adam says, frustrated. "I'm not asking because of myself. I'm asking because of you. You deserve something so much better."

Tommy opens his mouth, closes it, unable to say anything. He understands Adam so well sometimes, and in other times, he's completely lost. The only better thing he can think of is something simple, but even that could get boring after awhile. "Go to sleep," he finally says. "We'll talk in the morning."

Adam stays there a little while longer, watching Tommy closely. It doesn't make him uncomfortable, but he wishes Adam would leave already. He wants to pass out. He wants to forget everything. 

"Good night." Adam takes a step back, and closes the door behind him. 

Tommy breathes a sigh of relief. This love is going to end up killing him.


	5. Chapter 5

_Everywhere that I go  
I see another memory  
And all the places we used to know  
They're always there to haunt me  
I walk around and I feel so lost and lonely  
You're everything that I want  
But you don't want me_

Sleepwalker by Adam Lambert

 

When the morning comes he's made his decision. 

Tommy goes to Adam's kitchen, gets something to eat even though he doesn't feel like it, and then finds his way to the balcony. The sky is light blue, only a few clouds here and there, and he can see the skyscrapers clearly. It's green here, and there's no smoke covering the city either. Everything looks peaceful and quiet. He breathes in deep, then drinks his coffee.

"Hi," Adam says from behind him, and he acknowledges his presence with a nod. This is going to be difficult. 

Adam comes to stand beside him, leans against the railing, and looks at the view opening in front of them. Adam loves the Hills; Tommy likes it back in Burbank. There's a coffee mug in between Adam's hands. "Did you sleep at all?" Adam asks.

"Not really, no." He tries to think of something else to say because he doesn't want to say this. He wants things to be different. He wants Adam to tell him that everything's going to be alright. He wants to believe like a stupid child. 

"You're leaving, aren't you?" There's so much pain in Adam's words that for a second he wants to deny it. He can't. 

Tommy turns to face Adam. "I thought I could take this. I was wrong. Last night something broke... I've never been so... I can't, Adam. I can't do this. I can't be your friend. I can't spend time with you. Not now, anyway. Maybe later. Maybe when it's not so there all the time, when I can look at you and not... Just let me go."

Adam reaches out, touches his cheek, and there are tears in his eyes. "I wish I could be everything to you. I love you so much." His voice is soft, quiet.

"Let me go," Tommy repeats, whispering. 

"Go." He's never seen Adam like this. Everything in him speaks against that word, yet he said it anyway. 

Tommy takes a step back, then another, watching Adam the whole time. He's grateful, but it feels like he's severing himself, creating a crack into his world, breaking something that should never be allowed to be torn apart. "Bye," he says quietly. 

Blood hums in his ears when he turns around, leaves. 

He goes to get his pants from the bathroom, then runs to Adam's bedroom to find his t-shirt and hoodie - neatly folded on an armchair - leaves Adam's clothes on the bed of the guestroom, and just escapes as fast as he can so he won't change his mind, won't stay, won't reduce himself into a shell of a human being. 

Tommy drives around aimlessly, doesn't want to go home, doesn't want to go anywhere or be anyone or do anything. He wants to cease to exist. It hurts too much, and he can't take it. He's not that strong. It's easier to mourn someone when they are gone. There's nothing left to do but remember. But when you want to forget and everything in you remembers... It leaves you full of wounds that can't heal. 

At some point he takes a few right turns, and he's close to home. He drives the familiar route, calming down a little. It's a dull ache inside him now, not so fresh and raw and right there for anyone to see. He can face Mike, can walk to his room, can take those steps that need to be taken. 

When he gets home he collapses on the hall floor, on hands and knees, so deadly tired he wants to fall asleep right there. 

"Keep your phone on, moron," Mike says, then sees him, stops. "That bad, huh?"

Tommy nods. He's not going to say a word, ever. 

Mike crouches beside him, pulls him up, and makes him walk, drags him to the living room. "We're going to watch a movie I just rented. Then you'll go to bed, and I'll slip something into your drink so you'll actually sleep for a change."

Practical Mike is practical. Tommy smiles weakly. 

They watch the movie, some horror flick Tommy has no real interest in, and Mike talks over it with great pleasure. He knows Tommy hates that, but he also knows that it distracts him enough that he won't think too much. And he wasn't kidding when he said that he'd give Tommy something. He has a sleeping pill prescription, but he doesn't take them that often. He sleeps. During odd hours maybe, but he does get pretty decent sleep every now and then. This isn't now or then. Without pills, he'd stay wide awake, eyes open, mind going in circles. 

Mike tells him to brush his teeth, put his pajama on, and go under the covers. Tommy does everything because he's such an obedient little bastard right now. He takes the glass of water from Mike, puts the white pill into his mouth, takes a sip from his drink, and swallows. 

"Sleep," Mike says. "You won't feel better tomorrow, but at least you'll have most of your brain activity back."

He's not sure he wants any activity in his brain. His brain is stupid and pointless and working against him. He turns his back to Mike, hears him leave and close the door behind him. 

Three long, desperate weeks go by, and he barely leaves the apartment. He plays with Isaac and Ravi and has a gig with Monte and Warren, but he doesn't write. Tommy plays the guitar all the time, all kinds of songs he knows by heart, but he can't write anything new. He left that skill to Adam's bedroom. 

His mom worries over him and his sister calls him everyday to bug him about it. He can't put a face on himself. He can't pretend anything. He can't fix this. 

Time is the only weapon he has against the scorching pain inside him. He can try to rationalize it. He can push it back. But he doesn't want to. This is his life, and he has always gone head first to everything. 

He's lying on the sofa, five days' beard covering his face, smelly and gray and awful. He's kind of watching True Blood but not really. If he didn't feel so horrible he'd probably laugh at himself right now. 

He hears Mike come in, but does nothing to greet him. 

"You've got mail," Mike says, dropping an envelope on his stomach. Mike wrinkles his nose. "Go to shower. You're starting to attract creepy-crawlies." He goes to his room to avoid the sulky presence of one Tommy Joe Ratliff. 

Tommy sits up, looks at the envelope with mild interest. There's no sender, and the address is printed on the envelope. He decides to go to the shower before he reads it. A good way to trick himself into doing things. 

After shower, shave, and clean clothes, he feels a bit more like a functioning human being. He sits on the couch again, then rips the envelope open. He gets handwritten fan mail, but he never receives any real letters from anyone he knows. 

The letter is signed with A. 

His heart starts to beat so fast he has to lean back and close his eyes. _Breathe,_ he tells himself, trying to regain control. Once he feels like almost normal again, he reads the letter: 

_Hi,_

_I've started this a million times. I still don't know how to start, but somewhere is better than nowhere._

_I don't know if you want to hear this, but I miss you. Like crazy. I didn't need to see you daily before because the bond was there even if time passed by. Now, I have no connection to you, and honestly, it feels horrible to be this far apart._

_But that's not why I'm writing to you. We've been booked to have a gig next Saturday at Stargazer's Sign. I hope you'll come. Monte will contact you soon, but I just wanted to tell you this personally. I want you to play for me. I don't want anyone else. You are irreplaceable._

_Please be safe._

_With Love,_

_A._

He doesn't want Adam to suffer like this. That's his first thought. The second is: _Of course I'll play for him._ That is simple. He'd never stop doing that. He just can't be around, can't be close. 

He calls Monte and tells him that he's free on Saturday. He also asks Monte to take care of Adam. Yeah, he can't help it. 

When there's something to look for his days feel less gloomy. He even puts clothes on everyday, and he steps outside more than once during that week. 

Sutan takes him to Hollywood & Highland to have a drink, the courtyard of the mall full of people, children playing in the walk-in fountain. He listens to Sutan, feels at peace for a change, lets the sun warm his face. This is one of his favorite places in LA even though it's nothing but kitsch, mindless shopping, huge smiles that might or might not be real... but there's something he likes about it. Maybe it's the combination of open sky and man-made beauty. 

"How are you?" Sutan asks after talking endlessly about new dresses he's found for Raja. 

"Better," he says, too surprised by the question to think about his answer. He thinks about it now, and it's actually true. He feels a little better, like he's woken up from a very long nightmare. "Why?"

"Why? I've asked you out four times these past two weeks. This is the first time you said yes, and I know you haven't been busy. Something's bothering you, and I want to make it better."

Tommy shrugs. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"I've snooped around. You haven't told anyone what's wrong, and you've actually made Mike crazy with the whole I-solemnly-swear-to-suffer-alone act. He's at his wit's end with you, and he's begging me to help. Your friends actually care. Let us, please."

Now he feels guilty, too. "I love Adam," he blurts out, and wants to bite his tongue off. 

"Oh, honey, we all love him. We can ask his help. He'd so... oh..." Sutan falls silent. "You love him."

"Yeah..." He can't look at Sutan so he looks at the elephant on top of the pillar. Kitsch, it is. 

Sutan hugs him, just wraps his arms around him, drink forgotten on the bench next to him. Tommy expected questions, or disbelief, anything but silence. They sit like that for a long time, passers-by turning to look at them every now and then. Tommy lets Sutan hug him, but his own hands stay at his sides, holding on to the edge of the bench. 

"How are you dealing?" Sutan finally asks, but it's not the prying kind of question. It's genuine concern. 

"Not well. Better than a few days ago. I'm here."

"I'm so sorry," Sutan says, chin resting against Tommy's shoulder. 

"Don't." He doesn't want anyone else to be sad because of this. 

Sutan sighs. "He knows, doesn't he?"

"Yeah."

"That's why he's been so miserable lately." Sutan pauses. "You don't wanna know. Sorry. I don't... Whaaaa! You're my best friends. I don't want anything to happen to you."

Tommy knows. He doesn't want anything to happen to them either. He wants everything to go back to normal. He wants not to have these feelings. He wants. It doesn't change anything. "I wish I could stop feeling."

"No. You're the sweetest person there is. Never say that. Please."

"I'm not trying to block it. I'm not trying to become cold. But it's just impossible to live with this, and sometimes I just wish it would end. I want it to end. I feel like someone drove over me with a truck and left me there dying. Everything hurts, and it's not helping that I'm not seeing him. It only makes me miss him more." He hasn't been talking about it to anyone, and now he can't seem to stop. "I want to call him. All the time. I want to hear his voice. I want to tell him every little thing. I want to... I can't live without him. And it feels so fucking stupid because I lived without him for so long. It's been less than two years. He's been in here," he pats his heart, "less than that, and now... all of a sudden, nothing works without him. Love shouldn't be like this. It shouldn't feel like this."

Sutan pulls him into a proper hug, forces him to turn towards him. His hands feel comforting, and Tommy buries his face into Sutan's neck, puts his arms around him. "I don't know how to fix this," he whispers. "I don't know what to do. I don't want to lose him. I didn't mean to do this. I didn't mean to. I didn't."

"Honey, you can't choose who you love. Especially when they are gorgeous fuckers who spread glitter and love and happiness all around them. Don't try to fight it. You did nothing wrong."

"I messed up everything."

"No, you didn't. There's not enough love in this world, silly-bee. Yeah, it hurts, but it's also beautiful." Sutan hugs him tighter. "You're one of the most wonderful people I've ever met. Don't let this make you feel like you're not."

Tommy relaxes a little, breathes a little easier, too. "How come you're so wise?"

Sutan laughs. "Either you learn nothing from suffering, or you try to gain all the good things from it. I've chosen to do lots of the latter because everything's so much more fun that way." 

Tommy feels embarrassed all of a sudden, feels like he's taken more than he should have. They're out in the open - anyone could have taken pictures of them - and he's a rather private person. He pulls away, and Sutan lets him. "Sorry for making a scene." He picks up his drink and takes a sip from it. 

"You didn't. I'm glad you shared this with me," Sutan says after a moment, a lot of affection in his voice. Tommy doesn't know how to take it so he doesn't try; he just lets Sutan be who he is. "I hope you two can figure this out. I want you both to be happy."

"Me too," Tommy says, staring to the distance, not seeing anything. He wants to feel content. He wants to feel whole and peaceful and quiet. He feels less like there's a chaos demon inside him, but he also knows it's only temporary. Someone else can't carry his burden. 

They sit there for a little while longer, but then the weather changes and they decide to leave. Tommy takes Sutan home, then drives around for a while, thinking, feeling more like himself than in days. 

Mike is happy when Tommy asks him to play Dead Space 2 with him. Killing monsters is their idea of a Friday well spent. They constantly yell at each other - to look out, to give the controller back because "you're chicken shit" - and eat snacks, drink root beer, and relax like lazy fuckers who don't give a damn about being grown-ups. 

Tommy laughs, his heart bounding in his ears because there's something lurking in the darkness, eager to kill-maim-eat him. 

He kind of loves his friends.


	6. Chapter 6

_You could be my unintended  
Choice to live my life extended  
You could be the one I'll always love  
You could be the one who listens to my deepest inquisitions  
You could be the one I'll always love_

_I'll be there as soon as I can  
But I'm busy mending broken pieces of the life I had before_

Unintended by Muse

 

Adam is a peacock, feathers in his hair and clothes, his make up too glamorous, his hair standing tall, and every piece of him immaculate and so right for this place that Tommy can only applaud. 

"You like?" Adam asks, and Tommy feels happy, basking in the light of Adam's smile. 

"I love," he says and means it. Adam looks like he could light the whole place on fire just by gracing it with his presence. 

Adam moves closer to the door of his dressing room where Tommy is standing. They haven't seen each other for a month, but it doesn't feel like it. 

"Can I hug you?" Adam asks, and Tommy nods, voice and words and thoughts all gone. 

Adam's scent envelopes him, steals his breath away. He doesn't hesitate at all, just pulls Adam as close as he can. Adam holds on to him, hands searching as though he can't believe that Tommy is there and he has to keep touching his back and shoulders and hair and arms. Then finally Adam pushes him to an arm's length. 

Tommy doesn't want to let go so he holds on to the hem of Adam's shirt with both hands. 

"You look good. Have you been eating? Sleeping?"

Tommy laughs, a quiet, private laugh that he doesn't share with most people. "You and my mom have a lot in common."

"I worry. I've become best friends with Mike since you stopped talking to me. He tells me everything. He also tells me to piss off, but I'm persistent. How are you?"

He can't believe this. His friends are evil, back-stabbing douchebags who conspire behind his back. He's glad that Adam's been able to keep track on him, though, just because he doesn't want Adam to worry. "I'm fine."

Adam is quiet too long, and Tommy finally lifts his gaze from Adam's way too open shirt to his eyes. Time fucking stops. "Not fine," he says quickly. "Okay. Or maybe functioning from time to time. Better than surviving, though." He should really shut up right now. 

"I'm glad you're here," Adam says, still holding his arms. 

"Yeah." It would be a good idea to look somewhere else, too, but he can't. Adam's eyes are too intense, studying him, trying to pry him open. At least it feels like that. 

Adam lets go after a while, slowly stepping back. "Has Monte gone through the show with you?"

It takes him a moment to recover, but it doesn't matter because Adam turns around and goes to put his boots on. He tries to find some kind of an answer from his overcharged mind. "He said it's a half an hour show, and no For Your Entertainment. Why'd you choose to break the medley?"

"I want to start with Voodoo. No other reason." Adam is sitting on a stool, closing the clips of his boots. 

"He also told me you cut Fever off the list."

This time Adam looks at him. "I get carried away there. I didn't want to take the risk."

Tommy smiles. "It's for the show. I'm not made of glass."

"No. But you're far more important to me than stage antics. I want you to be able to trust me. If you can't do that we can't do anything up there."

"I do trust you. It's entertainment." 

Adam stands, looks at Tommy in the eyes. "I know what I did. I know I hurt you. So no, you can't trust me." He sounds so serious, like he's accusing himself of everything that's happened, like he thinks that Tommy left because he can't trust Adam. 

He takes a step closer, holding out his hand. "I didn't leave because you hurt me. I left because it felt too good."

All kinds of emotions cross Adam's face, his eyes vulnerable and open. "I thought..."

"You thought wrong." He looks at his outstretched hand, waits for Adam to take it, and he does, his fingers lacing with Tommy's. "I trust you."

There's something incredibly fragile in Adam's whole being for a few seconds before he pulls his act together and gives Tommy a brilliant smile. "Wanna give them a show tonight?"

"Always." 

They get up on that stage, and they play like they've never played before. Adam is artistic, adventurous, intensely there and so in Tommy's personal space that they've probably never had a show with so much innuendo. Tommy enjoys every second of it, lets himself free in ways he's never done on stage. He doesn't care at all how other people see him. He only cares about giving the best possible show they can. 

And it is the best. The crowd loves them, cheers them back, wants more, and Adam sings Whole Lotta Love, slow and sensual, and they all follow his lead, making it soft and mellow, something people can get lost into. 

He can feel his heartbeats all over his body when they walk to the backstage. He's in trance, in a deliriously happy mood that spreads all the way to the tips of his fingers and down to his toes. He's so content he could just lie somewhere and stare at the ceiling, and nothing could ever be more perfect than that.

Adam catches him just before the dressing rooms, guides him into a dark corner, pulls him close, and just breathes with him. He feels Adam's heart slowing under his cheek, the rhythmic beating making him think of how comforting the sound of someone else being alive is. Tommy loves Adam's heart, the way it pumps life into him and the way it connects him to other people. 

"Stay," Adam whispers. 

It's such a selfish thing to ask, but Tommy can't blame him. He wants to, he wants nothing more. "I need time." 

"Yeah. I still want to keep you here."

Tommy is curious so he asks: "Why?"

He's a little surprised when Adam doesn't pull away. Instead he seems to be thinking about it. Tommy can't tell because his face is safely buried in Adam's shirt. 

"Because you're complicated, fun, beautiful, talented, sweet, lovely, perfect, badass, and I'm miserable without you."

It's then that Tommy realizes something for the first time ever, something he has denied from himself. He pulls free from Adam's hold, takes a step back. 

It's kind of a huge revelation, and he feels stupid for not seeing it before. He has no idea how to interpret this feeling into words because it's dangerous territory where even the smallest step can lead him to devastation. There are other people involved. He's met those other people. He knows they are sweet and caring and lovely. He knows why Adam loves him. He knows why the guy loves Adam. 

But he hasn't said this out loud, and if he never does he'll learn to regret it. He looks at Adam, knows that Adam can't see this in his eyes, not like he can see so many other things. "I want you to myself," he says, and swallows hard because these words are difficult. "I want it in this life. I want everything with you. I want to live with you. I want to love you. And I want you to love me back. I want that. You." 

It feels different. He feels different. "I'm not going to try anything, but if you ever come to me I won't be the one stopping it."

Adam's eyes are huge and round; he looks like a bambi in headlights. 

"You can call me," Tommy finally says, starting to walk away. "We can hang out, whatever... I can do it." 

Adam doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to. Tommy can guess what's going on inside his head. Everything Adam's said so far clicked somehow. Adam is torn, and Tommy could be something more than just a friend to him. He's known that somewhere in the back of his mind all along, but this is the first time he realizes that he actually deserves Adam's love. It might not happen, but he deserves it, and he's willing to let it happen. 

He grabs his bass and amplifier, walks out of the backdoor, and goes to his car. He did say bye to everyone, but he's quite not here at the moment so he doesn't feel like spending time with them. He wants to get home and listen to something mopey. 

He feels absolutely mortified about confessing everything to Adam. There's no limit for his willingness to humiliate himself. He blushes at the thought. For such a quiet guy he sure knows how to talk too much. 

Tommy is just about to sit behind the wheel of his car when he hears footsteps and Adam's quiet voice: "Wait." 

He's glad he's holding the door of the car because his knees start shaking. He turns to look at Adam over his shoulder. There might be a smile on his face; he can't tell because he's too nervous to think anything but _Shit!!!!_

"Tomorrow." Adam pants, leaning against his thighs. "I want to see you tomorrow if you're free." 

He's free every freaking day, all day, any day. "Okay." He congratulates himself for sounding calm. He's also happy he can still make words happen with his mouth. 

Adam's smile nearly knocks him out. Fucking perfect. "What do you wanna do?" Adam asks with a sweet, soft voice that curls Tommy's toes. 

Watch the wallpaper peel? Anything. "Diner breakfast," he finally says, looking at Adam carefully. "I want beans, pancakes, sausages, fried eggs..."

"It's so hard to please you," Adam says, his whole body shaking with laughter. 

Tommy wants to say something dirty, but they are not quite there yet. 

"At what time?" Adam wrinkles his nose. "Early?"

He nods. "As early as possible. Wake me up before you come to pick me up." He steps into his car, then looks at Adam one more time. "Don't be late."


	7. Chapter 7

_Hiding deep within, doors cry opening  
Lead into the light of love deep like the sea  
Rich in variety, heartfelt and open, wide like a life, unique, yet so alike_

_Can you hear me, I know I'm just a whisper  
Can you hear me, brother mine, sweet sister  
Love will find an answer_

_You flow inside of me, language and imagery, pure in simplicity  
Thirsting for unity, realised harmony,  
No need to hide away your life, unique, yet so alike_

Can You Hear Me by Poets of the Fall

 

When his phone rings in the morning he curses himself to the lowest level of any horrifying place the human mind has ever been able to imagine. He's slept less than three hours, and he feels terrible, the sheets tangled around him like they remember another life as a boa. 

He groans something into the phone. 

Adam's cheerful laugh makes his head hurt. "You asked for this," he says and laughs some more. "I'm there in fifteen minutes. Be ready. Bye."

Tommy lets his phone slide off his ear. He'll just rest his head here for a little while longer. 

The phone rings again. He answers it, but only barely gets it close enough for him to hear Adam say, "And don't fall asleep again." 

Damn it. Last night the whole idea felt funny. Now, he only wants to strangle his yesterday-self. He wanted to make Adam work for it a little, but this, this is ridiculous. 

He rolls out of the bed and lands on his hands and knees. Luckily he has a soft rug next to his bed because he's a restless sleeper, and he's fallen off the bed numerous times. Mike even suggested another mattress next to his bed, the bastard. 

Tommy heads blindly to the direction of the bathroom, barely avoiding a pile of clothes on their living room floor. Falling over and hitting his head is not something he wants to experience first thing in the morning. 

He takes a piss and a two-minute-shower, then shaves, dries his hair and brushes his teeth in six. He still has five minutes to find clothes. 

He wanders around the apartment in a towel, looking for his pants. He's also lost his phone and keys. 

The doorbell rings, and Tommy curses under his breath. Shit, Adam's here already. He grabs a pair of underwear, pulls on the first pair of jeans he can find, and steals one of Mike's T-shirts. 

"Hi," Adam says, eyes sparkling. "I knew you wouldn't be ready."

"I was dead ten minutes ago. Be happy I'm up." Tommy moves away from the door, pulling the shirt on properly. "Just wait for a second. I'll be back."

Adam grabs his wrist before he can leave. "No, no, no. Come like that. You look good."

Tommy looks down at himself: the blue T-shirt that's too big, the black jeans, and his painted toe nails that are peeking from under the legs of his jeans.

"Wear flip flops, and I'll buy you an extra large latte." Adam's smile spreads wide. "I dare you."

"I won't leave without sunglasses, though. You have to give me that."

Adam laughs. "I'll let you take them if you don't wear them all the time."

Yeah, this is the old them. This is something he's missed. He puts his flip flops on like Adam requested, takes his wallet from the shelf in the hall, then looks around for his cellphone. "Call me. I can't find my phone."

Adam does, and they go look for the cell. The sound comes from the kitchen even though he can't even remember going there. 

"It's in the freaking fridge," Adam says, opening the door, and there it is, right next to a carton of orange juice. "Baby, how'd you do that?" 

Tommy looks at Adam, baffled. "I have no idea. I remember shower. I don't remember kitchen."

Adam pulls him into a one-armed hug. "You really need to sleep more. Do you want to stay in? We can skip breakfast, do it some other time."

"No." He shakes his head for emphasis. "Let's go."

Adam doesn't tell him where they're going, but he says that there aren't that many diners open at this ungodly hour on Sunday. 

It's a shabby little place with red chairs and a low ceiling, and it's dark, too, but the minute Tommy walks in he loves it. There's just something very comforting about the all American diners. 

They order the normal breakfast. Adam gets his eggs boiled; Tommy wants them fried. Otherwise it's all the same, hash browns included. 

Tommy is actually hungry, and they eat in silence. He looks at Adam every once in a while, trying to figure out how he feels about Adam now, what's different, why he's not crushed to pieces every time Adam smiles. It has something to do with actually wanting him and finally admitting it. He just can't figure out how or why. Maybe it's because now he has a reason to be around Adam even if it hurts. He's not willing to break anyone's relationship, and he only wants Adam to be happy, but if there's even the smallest chance that Adam might be happier with him he's willing to stick around and see if it's so. 

It's still possible he'll end up burned, but he knows that Adam is worth it. 

"What do you see when you look at me?" Adam asks, licking bacon grease off his fingers. They are pigs; they truly are. Their mothers would be so ashamed of them. 

"What do you mean?"

Adam shrugs. "I don't know. What comes to your mind when you think of me? Why do you like me?"

Last night he asked a similar question. Adam's answer changed something. He wonders what Adam wants to hear. That Tommy loves him because he's cool and good and perfect and all kinds of interesting? It's not that simple. "I see a person who tries more than most people. I love the way you try to be better, try to grow, try to see things how they truly are. You don't settle for easy answers, and you always ask the difficult questions. You're very brave. It's easy to stand next to you and feel good about oneself because you give everything away so freely. That's what I see."

Adam's eyes are dark and heavy-lidded, and they are very focused. "You know, there's so much going on inside that head of yours. Why don't you share it more often?"

"Because I don't think most people are that interested in hearing what I have to say. Or because it's not that important." He's never been one to overshare, just not in his nature. He loves to talk to people who take their time to really listen. If they only wait for their turn to speak he'd rather let them speak. And it's not like he minds. He loves listening to people. Nothing wrong with that. 

"You do know that there are thousands of people who would love to hear you talk?" Adam jokes, but Tommy decides to take it seriously. 

He looks at Adam, locking eyes with him. "They don't really want to see me. They want to see a perfect image of me, the kind that never changes or never gets tarnished. They see a front. What I am, and what people think I am don't really match. With you it's different because you're so freaking open that people can see everything on your face. They don't need FBI training to read you. Listening to you is enough. Me? Not so much."

"Are you saying you're more complicated than I am?" Adam asks, a soft smile on his face. 

"I'm saying I'm not as expressive as you are. I don't like to be a center of all that attention. I only want to thank everyone for supporting us. I don't want... their adoration. That kind of scares me, to be honest. But I don't mind... I just know it isn't real. Whatever attention I get, it's not because of me. It's because of you, and because of the image people have of me."

"You really think people don't love you because of you?" Adam leans over the table. "That nobody sees you?"

He doesn't like this conversation at all, and he has no idea how they ended up talking about this. "Of course some people see me. You see me. Monte sees me. Many people. I'm not blind."

"No, you're not," Adam agrees. "But you clearly think that you don't have adoring fans of your own."

Tommy leans back in his chair, annoyed. Adam is interpreting his words completely wrong. "No, I think that those who adore me only do it because they have an image of me. They think I'm something I'm not. And most people only notice me because I'm the pretty blond under your arm. I haven't done anything on my own. None of it is really mine."

Adam looks hurt. "Really? You think that nobody appreciates your skills, or sees what an amazing person you are?"

Well, yeah. That's what he's heard months upon months upon months: _How does it feel to kiss Adam? Where's Adam?_ Or every other person hating him for being too something or other. Or everyone thinking that he's some kind of a sex god who wants to hear how they'd want to fuck him. So yes, he's a little frustrated with the whole thing. Just a little. Every once in a while. Like right now because Adam brought it up. 

"I love playing," Tommy says tentatively. "I love music. I love giving a great show. I love meeting everyone, and making people happy, but I don't really see anyone appreciating that. I'm a pretty face. And that's not who I am."

"When we get home I'll read you every comment anyone's ever written about your amazing guitar skills. Then I'll tell you how fucking amazing it was that you were able to learn the bass parts for the audition so quickly, that you're one of a kind, that nobody could ever be as good for us as you are. We the team couldn't function without you. We'd be hollow, we'd be missing an important piece. And you... right there next to me, always willing to play, always so open and crazy and just... right. How can you think that you're just a pretty face. For some people maybe, but when it matters... no. Just no."

He knows, but sometimes it's difficult to see that when everything speaks against it. He would like to be sure, just once he would like to be sure that what Adam is saying is true. Just once. It would be enough. "Yeah... I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Just believe me, okay." 

Tommy feels a little stupid because he kind of ruined the breakfast. He wants to make it right, but doesn't know how. 

Adam takes his hand, entwining their fingers, caressing Tommy with his thumb. "Do you believe me?"

Does he? It took him forever to get where he is today. A part of him wishes it had happened some other way - not on national television in front of millions of people, Adam's tongue in his throat. But it's a very tiny part. Most parts of him are deliriously happy about the fact that he's here today with Adam, and he'll be promoting the next album with Adam, going on tour with him, playing gigs after gigs, new songs, new dreams, new vacations. "Yeah," he whispers, staring at what's left of his food. 

"Good, because otherwise I would have to record everything you do for the next six months and then show it to you. Your skills, your love, your personality can be seen. I see them. You're one beautiful person." Adam lets go of his hand, then starts eating again. 

After that, they talk about the new album, all the parties Adam's supposed to go to, his promotional work, Tommy's plans for Mouthlike, and just music, music, music. Everything feels lighter, easier than for a long while, and Tommy is happy about it. He's glad Adam loves him, and is willing to show it. He's grateful for everything he has. 

"Where do you wanna go next?" Adam asks when they leave the diner. 

He wants to go to Adam's place because he wants to write again, but he fears it a little. Too many memories, too many things that went wrong and could still go wrong. "Let's drive around," Tommy says, choosing the safest option. 

"Mulholland?" Adam asks, opening the car door for him.

Tommy nods. He'd actually like to go to the Hollywood Bowl Overlook, too, if the weather stays nice. 

In the car, Adam glances at him, then says, "If some famous rock band wanted you would you leave me?"

He's too shocked by the question to answer. Adam interprets it as hesitation, and pulls away, a little upset. He takes hold of Adam's forearm because he can't let Adam think something like that. "Hey, I love playing for you."

"Yeah, but you deserve to be a part of a band, not just a name."

Tommy wonders how they ended up being so insecure about each other. "Monte deserves to be in a band. Isaac deserves to be in a band. Cam deserves to be in a band. And guess what? We are."

"You could earn more. You could be a part of something bigger." Adam sounds a little desperate. "Am I holding you down?"

"What? No. You lifted me up. You made everything possible. You're the best boss possible. I love being a part of the phenomenon called Adam Lambert. Seriously. What are you thinking?" 

Adam looks sheepish. "I feel like it's my fault you get strange attention, like I reduced you somehow. That was not my intention at all. You've made everything so much more fun... and now I feel like... I caused everything. I made you miserable."

In a way Adam is right, but in every other way he couldn't be more wrong. "If you think I fell for you because of the kissing you're too full of yourself." The words might be harsh, but he says them with a soft, teasing tone. He loves this person, every single part of him, even the parts that are not far from idiocy. 

"I didn't..." Adam pauses. "Maybe I did. But it's not just that. I want you to rise to your full potential. Can you do that with me?"

"Are you trying to get rid of me?"

Adam jerks his head back, frustration tensing his whole body. "No! But I want to make sure that if you ever get a better opportunity... I want you to take it if you want it. I don't want you to stay out of obligation or loyalty or anything. I want you to be able to do what makes you happy, what you love."

"Um... Have you noticed that I already do what I love. I do it with you and Monte and Isaac and Mike. And I'm not sure if you know this about me, but I don't really want to be rich. I only want to be able to do this for a living. And I definitely don't want to be crazy famous. Yeah, Metallica is more my kind of music than Madonna, but I understand both. I don't love all your songs, but I love playing all of them. I love being in this band, being with you, not because I love you, but because I enjoy it. You guys are my family."

Adam relaxes visibly. "You mean it?"

"Yeah."

That settles it. Adam believes him, and he kind of believes Adam, and everything is well in the world. 

Tommy gets used to the idea of being close to Adam while wanting something more and knowing he can't have it. They do lots of things together, mostly out, avoiding the paparazzi quite easily. The glamily gets together as often as they can, eating out, having private parties, jamming together. They just hang out, try to keep each other close until the promo work of the next album starts.

Adam flies to Sweden at some point to record a song, and Tommy tries not to think with whom Adam spends his nights. He feels less like his heart gets ripped out of his chest every time he sees Adam, and he thinks it's progress. The honest truth is he can't take it much longer. Adam doesn't want him, that much is clear, and he's ready to let go of the hope. 

One evening, they are at Adam's place in his huge bathroom, getting ready for a fancy party Cam is throwing with her girlfriend. They're supposed to wear suits and ties and all that, and Tommy didn't even own a suit until Adam forced him to go shopping earlier that day. He has a light-blue shirt, a form fitting suit, and a belt with a rockstar buckle. Adam did something magical to his hair too, and he actually looks fabulous. He just can't put his tie on. 

When Adam notices Tommy's struggles with the tie he comes to stand behind him, and gently slaps his hands away. "Let me."

Adam shows him every step of the way how to do it, looking at him in the mirror, their eyes glued to each other. Tommy holds on to the edge of the sink, slightly worried about Adam's closeness. They've been so careful, touching each other as little as possible because everything's easier that way. 

Tommy tries not to think of it, but Adam's warmth circles him, and he's practically in his arms. 

"And this is how you do it," Adam says, patting his chest just over the tie. 

Tommy sighs. He needs to do something about his life. He can't stay here like this, always needing, always asking, always knowing he's not going to get it. 

Adam doesn't move away; he just stares at Tommy. "This is a good look on you," he finally says, voice low. 

He's not sure what's going on. Adam has no reason to stay, to keep touching him, yet he's not stopping. He closes his eyes because he doesn't want Adam to see how much it affects him. 

Then, to his utter surprise, he feels Adam's fingers on his chin, caressing him softly. He stops breathing because Adam touches his lips, then his cheekbones and eyebrows, softly stroking his skin. He's completely at Adam's mercy, but even if he could he wouldn't leave. He wasn't joking when he said that if Adam ever came to him he wouldn't be the one to stop it. 

Adam puts his other hand on Tommy's waist, just holds it there, but it feels like a branding iron. 

He's so turned on he can feel nothing but Adam's hands on his body. Adam's fingers brush against his lips again, and Tommy lets out an embarrassing sound. He can't hold it in, no matter how much he tries. This is just too much, and his starving mind craves for it. 

Adam wraps his arms around him, pulls him hard against his body, squeezing air out of Tommy's lungs. Adam buries his face into Tommy's neck, panting a little. He's shaking, too, and Tommy can feel his erection pressing against him. 

"Adam?" he whispers, too afraid to say anything else.

The only answer he gets is an even tighter hug. It almost hurts. 

When Adam lets him go he won't even look at Tommy in the eyes. He sits down on the toilet bowl and hides his face into his hands. "Fuck," he mutters, but says nothing else. 

Tommy lets go of the sink, his hands hurting because he's been gripping it so hard. _What was that?_ he wants to ask, but no sound comes out of his mouth. They are awkward again and weird and fucked up, too. Only this time, Adam did what he did because of himself. He wanted it; he wanted to touch Tommy. It's still fucked up. And it still sucks. 

He stares at Adam, then sits on the edge of the bathtub opposite Adam. "Talk to me," he says. He wants to know. 

"I can't."

"Well, fuck you." Anger spreads through him. "I deserve something."

Adam groans. "You deserve everything," he says softly, then adds, "Long-distance relationships suck. I'm so bad at this, and I don't know how to fix this."

"Look at me."

He does, eyes defiant. 

"I was ready to give up on you. What am I supposed to think now?"

Adam looks like he's in pain. "I don't know. I want to tell you everything you want to hear, but I don't know. I don't know."

"Do you love him?" Tommy asks with a carefully calculated voice. 

Adam nods.

"Do you love me?" It's such a fucking scary question his heart nearly stops. 

Adam is quiet for a while, then says, "Yes."

"How?" He starts shaking. He feels as awful as he usually does when he's drunk too much coffee. 

"If everything was simple I'd be kissing you right now." Adam holds his breath. "I'd want you."

Tommy feels light-headed. He can't say anything else; there's nothing to say. 

They are in a stalemate.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Adam's point of view because I wanted to show his inner struggle.

_I'm just the shadow of the man I used to be  
And it seems like there's no way out of this for me  
I used to bring you sunshine  
Now all I ever do is bring you down  
How would it be if you were standing in my shoes  
Can't you see that it's impossible to choose  
No there's no making sense of it  
Every way I go I'm bound to lose  
Too much love will kill you  
Just as sure as none at all  
It'll drain the power that's in you  
Make you plead and scream and crawl  
And the pain will make you crazy  
You're the victim of your crime  
Too much love will kill you  
Every time  
Too much love will kill you  
It'll make your life a lie  
Yes, too much love will kill you  
And you won't understand why  
You'd give your life, you'd sell your soul  
But here it comes again  
Too much love will kill you  
In the end...  
In the end. _

Too Much Love Will Kill You by Queen

 

There are times when Adam wishes he didn't know how to love at all. It seems he can't do any of it right, ever. All his relationships have ended messy. He's fallen for straight guys; he's loved people who haven't loved him back. He's been betrayed. This one thing he has in his hands right now has been good on a level it's never been before: someone actually loves him back, someone who's able to stand on his own two feet, someone strong and funny and so, so lively that he doesn't have to try to tone down his own overly excited nature. 

And now this, everything threatening that one thing that's been working better than anything before. He feels so angry with himself. He wants to tear things down, wants to destroy his surroundings because there's no way for him to pull his heart out of his chest and make it work properly. 

Adam can see clearly what all of this is doing to Tommy. He can see the hope in him far more clearly than Tommy can see it himself. He can see how Tommy tries to hide his pain so it wouldn't hurt Adam. And to have this, to receive something so precious from someone he adores, it kills him. He can't take it, can't in anyway accept that he's hurting Tommy, but he can't stay away. This person means too much. If he pulled away, a part of him would stay behind, and he'd never be whole again. 

How did they end up here? He wants to curse the universe for giving him everything at once, ruining any chance of happiness for all of them. He fucking hates this because he has no way of knowing what's right and what's wrong. His feelings tell him nothing. His mind tells him nothing. He's just standing in the darkness without any means of finding his way back to somewhere where things don't hurt so fucking much. 

He sits on his bed, waits for the call to connect. 

"I've been waiting for your call. Missed you."

He falls on his back on the bed, placing his arm over his eyes. "How are you?"

"Getting sick of people asking me about you, but otherwise... can't wait to come there. You?"

Adam sighs. "I've been better." He can't lie, can't ever pretend.

"What is it? Can I help?"

God, everyone wants to help him. "I have a bad situation here. I can't really talk about it because I promised I wouldn't, but I... I'm hurting someone, and it kills me. He's my friend, and it's my fault he's suffering."

"Can you talk to him about it? Explain? He has to know you don't mean to hurt him. Anyone who knows you knows that."

Fucking, fucking fuck. He has the best people around him, and there's absolutely nothing he can do to solve this mess without hurting someone, without stomping on someone's heart. He feels cold and restless. "Why do you love me?" he asks because he has to know. He needs to hear it. 

"Because you're you. I've never met anyone like you. You're like an endless river of joy and excitement and crazy ideas. And you make me feel like I can be me and it's enough. Why?"

"Because I feel like an asshole at the moment."

"Come on. Nothing's ever that bad."

Adam bites his lower lip, then says, "I think it's worse. And I think I'm unfair to everyone."

"What's going on, Adam? You're scaring me a little."

He can't deal with this. He can't be responsible for this, too. "Nothing. I... just... I love you, okay?"

"Okay. Just tell me if I need to know something, please."

He bites his fist, cursing himself. "He's in love with me," he finally says. 

"Oh..."

"Yeah, and I don't know what to do."

"Are you... How do... Should I be worried?"

There's so much worry in that voice already. "Honestly... I don't know. I'm so, so sorry. You're the best thing that's happened to me in a long while. This... I'm so sorry."

"How am I supposed to react to this? I'm here. I can't even see you. Fuck."

"I know. This is so fucking unfair."

"Tell me about it."

Adam's hands are sweating. He feels like escaping his life completely. "I want you here," he finally says. "I want to see you."

"Yeah, not loving this right now."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are. Doesn't change things much. I'll be there in two weeks. What then?"

Yeah, what then? How are they going to live through this? "I'm trying to figure this out. Can you give me time?"

"Time for what? You love him, is that it?"

He loves everyone. That's his fucking problem. "I've always loved him; he's very dear to me."

"It's Tommy, isn't it? You said there's never been anything between you two, that he's straight. Was that a lie?"

"It wasn't a lie. I don't know how this happened. I don't know."

"Yeah, okay. I need to think about this. Just... call me tomorrow."

He's never felt this low in his life, but at least everyone knows the situation now. What a miserable little family he has. God, he hates himself


	9. Chapter 9

He listens to Nothing Else Matters on repeat, watches all the John Wayne movies he owns, puts songs together with Mike, and tries not to think about Adam and his boyfriend. Adam will be driving the guy to the airport today. He's maybe leaving, but it doesn't change anything. He's in Adam's life, in his bed, in his thoughts, sharing everything, and even if he leaves he won't be gone. 

Tommy sits on the windowsill of his bedroom, watching the street down below. He's trying to read, but he can't concentrate enough on the words. He thinks about the paparazzi pictures, and Adam's happy smile. 

He wants that smile to stay on Adam's face. 

There's not much he can do. Adam loves him too, but knowing that only makes him weaker. If he thinks about it too much it strips off all the walls he's built between himself and everything Adam means to him. He can hold it together because of those walls. 

Mike asked him once why Adam is the reason for his moodiness, and it surprised him so completely he only managed to say, "Because he loves someone else." And that was that, their whole fucking conversation about the biggest revelation of Tommy's life. Yes, he loves a guy, and no, the guy doesn't love him back the same way. 

The thing is, Mike isn't surprised. He doesn't care. He just doesn't like Tommy's unhappiness. 

And he thought people would at least freak out a little: "You? What? Nooo." 

Tommy sometimes wonders if Adam is the only exception, or if he actually likes guys, too. He can't really tell because he's never met any guys he's wanted in any way. Yeah, he's affectionate, and he can easily kiss anyone close to him, but there's just never been anything underneath that. With Adam, everything's been different from the beginning. Adam put a spell on him the moment they met. He's never been so infatuated by anyone, and it had nothing to do with sexual attraction, not at first anyway. 

The funny thing is he felt attracted to Adam long before he fell for him. He didn't mind any of the things Adam did to him on stage. He could easily play along, could easily take part in any of Adam's games. And it felt good from the first kiss to the last. 

The last time he kissed Adam was in December. 

He closes his eyes, touches his lips, remembers. He wants to kiss Adam again. He misses Adam's lips on his, the way Adam could be anything from fierce to tender to playful without even giving him a warning. 

Tommy jumps off the windowsill, and stretches his back. Too much thinking will put him in a straitjacket. 

He has to do something, but everything else seems trivial except seeing Adam. He wants to hop into his car, drive to Adam's place, and wait for him there. He has a spare key because Adam's crazy that way. He wants to do that, but knows the idea is beyond stupid. 

He's seen nothing but pictures of Adam for more than two weeks. Right now he doesn't care how stupid this is. 

Tommy grabs his acoustic guitar and leaves his room. He's putting his shoes on when Mike comes to the hall, a questioning look on his face. "You're going to his place?"

He nods, grabbing his keys from the table. 

"Are you sure it's a good idea?" Mike asks, careful and maybe a little uncomfortable. 

"I'm not sure about anything these days." He finds his phone and wallet, and goes to the door. "But thanks for your concern. I appreciate it." He smiles because he actually means it. It's good to know someone has his back. 

Mike grins. "This is the part where I say: 'Don't do anything I wouldn't do.' and you say..."

Tommy gives him the finger. "Fuck off. It's my life."

Mike pulls him into a hug. "Just take care of yourself." He lets go before Tommy can do anything. "Don't let anything shatter you, okay?"

"Yeah." He has no idea what to say to that so he leaves before it turns awkward. 

He decides to drive around long enough for Adam to get back home before he goes there - he would feel like an intruder. He already does, but he can't help himself. It's been too long. 

Tommy takes his time because now that he's actually doing this he feels strange. He wonders if he should call first. Then again, Adam has told him that he can come over whenever he wants. 

Finally he just decides to go there, no matter what. 

Adam's Mustang is in front of the garage so at least he's home. Tommy parks behind it, and steps out of the car. It's an early evening, the breeze slightly chilly. He wraps his arms around himself.

Tommy walks to the door and rings the bell. Nothing happens for a long while, but then he hears the lock being opened. His heart hammers in his chest. 

Adam's eyes are wild, and his energy is all over the place, violent and dark. Tommy doesn't usually care about spiritual nonsense but this time he just feels it, feels Adam's tenuous hold of himself. 

Adam walks away from the door, leaves it open, but doesn't say anything. Tommy follows him inside, takes off his shoes, places his guitar against the wall, and leaves his keys on top of the chest of drawers. 

Then he goes look for Adam. 

He finds him standing in the middle of the living room, hands at his sides, legs spread a little, his back to Tommy. Adam is the most approachable person he's ever met, but right now there's a fortress around him. 

Before he can say anything Adam turns around and asks, "What do you want?" 

Maybe he just wants to sit down and let this pass, whatever this is. He has to tilt his head back a little to look into Adam's eyes. There's something disturbing in them. His lip is curling, too. 

Adam grabs the front of Tommy's shirt, and pulls him closer. "What, Tommy?" He looks so angry, so out of control that he should probably be afraid. He isn't. Somewhere deep down he knows how little he needs to fear Adam. "This?" Adam lifts him up and close to his body, walks forward, and lands Tommy roughly on a table, his body between Tommy's thighs. "Do you want this?" Adam whispers in his ear, leaning over him, forcing him down on his elbows. Adam bites his neck, sucks hard, careless and burning hot. "Do you?" He bites Tommy's earlobe, licks the skin just below his ear, and Tommy takes hold of his hair, to keep him still, to lend him some control. 

"Yeah, I do," he says, panting, trying to think what to say to make Adam snap out of it. There's no time to say anything more because Adam crushes their mouths together, his teeth scraping Tommy's lips, almost drawing blood. Then, Adam grips his waist hard, and pulls him closer, keeps him there because he can. 

Tommy puts his hand on top of Adam's heart, curls it there, and goes slack in Adam's arms. Either he stops this now, or they won't have anything to return to tomorrow. 

Adam licks Tommy's lips, and to stay still is the hardest thing he's ever done. He just waits. Adam lets out a frustrated growl and pulls back, throwing everything off the table with a long sweep of his arm. "Fuck!" 

Tommy sits up, barely able to breathe. He pulls his legs close to his body and hugs them, staring at Adam as he paces the room. "What happened?" Tommy finally asks.

"You don't want this," Adam spits out. "I fuck shit up. Find something better."

Tommy wonders just how hurt Adam feels right now. He's never seen him like this. He decides to follow his instincts although his brain tells him to stay where he is. He moves slowly, sliding off the table and walking towards Adam, his heart beating nervous irregular beats. He wraps his arms around Adam from behind, not caring that he tries to shake him off. He won't let go, and when he doesn't Adam's knees give in and they fall to the ground. 

They sit there in stunned silence for a while, but then Adam turns around and lets Tommy hold him. It's an awkward position for both of them, but Tommy doesn't care because Adam is finally letting go of that terrible bottled up energy. Adam is actually crying, and in any other situation Tommy would find it intimidating, but right now, he's only grateful. He just holds on, rocking their bodies back and forth, thinking nothing. 

"I told him everything," Adam says after a long while. 

Tommy strokes his hair, but says nothing because he wants Adam to talk. 

"I told him about you. I told him I'm confused. I hurt him, Tommy." Adam's voice breaks. "I hurt him, too."

Adam is quiet after that, his arms so tight around Tommy it's hard for him to breathe. He never wanted this. Nothing in him ever wanted this. He wants Adam to feel whole and good and happy. 

Tommy wants to ask so many questions - Can you work it out? Why did you tell him? - but all of them seem wrong. The only right thing he knows is this, being here, as close as he can. 

Adam's hair tickles his neck, and the angle they're in is very uncomfortable, his neck and knees hurting. "What happened, Adam?" 

"We broke up." 

He feels no amount of happiness because of that; he just feels Adam's despair. 

" _He_ broke up with me." Anger was Adam's last defense, and when it didn't work he has nothing. He crumbles in Tommy's arms, falls so completely apart that Tommy fears he can't put himself together any more.

This is his fault. He should have stayed away. He caused this. 

"Please stay," Adam says with a pleading tone. 

"I will."

"Stay," Adam repeats, his heart in that one word. 

He could never leave.


	10. Chapter 10

_Voices fly, tracing the skyline  
And spiraling up through the grass  
Across wood and steel and clambering vines  
The day is fading fast_

_But love, love, there’s light in my garden  
Love, love, you just have to jump  
The city below, the taxicabs slow  
Love is all that ever was_

_These reservoirs are minarets,  
Irises cornflower blue,  
Clouds of caraway thyme  
You flared like a match struck in the dead-of-night gloom  
Leaving me blind_

_Now love, love, there’s light in my garden  
Love, love, you just have to jump  
The city below, the taxicabs slow  
For love is all that ever was_

_Every morning  
I want you to be  
The first thing I touch  
The first thing I see_

Reservoirs by Vienna Teng and Ben Arthur

 

They sit on the stairs that lead to Adam's garden, staring at the quiet night, deep in thought.

For the longest time, that's all they do, and Tommy gets cold, his body shaking and his teeth rattling. He feels a bit funny, but he says nothing because Adam is upset, and idle talk seems disruptive. 

"Go inside," Adam finally says, voice soft. "Or put some clothes on. You'll get sick."

He decides to do the latter, and goes to find something of Adam's to wear. There's a hoodie lying on the back of Adam's couch, and he takes it, then goes back to the patio. 

Adam hasn't moved at all, his broad back showing just how tense and miserable he feels. But at least he's not full of destructive energy any more. 

Tommy stays there for a little while longer, watching Adam. He's not sure where they stand now, but he knows he's not going anywhere. That's a start. 

He sits down next to Adam, almost too close but there's no such thing with them, and then asks, "Do you ever look at your life from an outside view point?"

Adam stares at him with questioning eyes. 

"Like... Do you ever see the bigger picture? How small all our troubles are compared to the immensity of the world, or how comical everything is when you look at it through something else other than your own eyes?"

Adam smiles weakly. "Are you trying to tell me how meaningless this is compared to the suffering of the world?"

Tommy shakes his head. "That's just stupid. Suffering has no scale, not really. Yours is as bad as anyone else's. I mean: if I look at my life outside my own headspace everything seems less terrible. It's kind of cool and interesting and a little beautiful too. This life, even this mess, matters to me because it's mine. It's meaningful because it's mine. I don't know... I guess I'm trying to say that from someone else's view point we're fucking sweet inside this mess."

Adam puts his hand on top of his, fingers lining with Tommy's like they belong there. "Sometimes, yeah. Not when I'm so smack in the middle of it that I can't think."

"I think it's more important to do it then than any other time."

"You might be right, but I can't see the bigger picture here. All I can see and feel are the things I did wrong. How can I look past that?"

Tommy bites his lower lip, then asks, "Why'd you tell him?" He's not sure if he has the right to ask this, but he can't understand why Adam chose to do this. He lost everything because of that. 

"Because I can't live with half-truths. And because I want to have everything, give everything, feel everything. I want it to be real and strong and honest. And I wanted him to stay despite of this. I wanted him to choose me." 

"Even when you couldn't give him the same?"

Adam bows his head. "You choose me every freaking time even though you have no reason to."

"Don't compare us," Tommy says, a little shaken. 

"It's hard not to. I wanted him to tell me: 'You are worth the trouble'. How fucked up is that? I wanted him to want me enough to see through this. I hoped... that if he knew he'd give me a reason to stay, that something would click and I'd know..."

"You're kind of stupid," Tommy says before he can stop himself. 

Adam looks hurt but nods. 

"You wanted him to confess his undying love after you told him that you might have feelings for someone else, too. Adam, only crazy people do that."

"You're crazy, then."

Tommy sighs. "Are you telling me that you wanted to see if he's as crazy as I am?"

"No. I told him because we've been honest with each other since the beginning. That's what we wanted, considering what crazy shit both of us have done in the past. But I hoped he would react like you. I wanted him to react like you. I wanted him to want me like you do. Because you're the ones I want, because you're in my head, because I love you, because I don't know how to choose."

It's possible they're both a little wrong in the head. "I don't want you to choose me because I want you more."

Adam jerks back, shocked. "I wouldn't."

"I won't settle for any less than everything."

"I know."

Tommy breathes a little easier. "Good."

"I wouldn't give you any less," Adam says quietly. 

Adam's hand feels heavy on his. It feels good. 

It takes them forever to find a comfortable rhythm again. They see each other quite often, but it feels somehow wrong and unsatisfying, like there's pressure underneath everything, and they just can't shake it off. Tommy wants to scream at Adam to get over this stupid shit, but he knows he can't push him. 

The only good thing is Adam's new album. It's better than anything Tommy's ever heard Adam sing, better than Sleepwalker, Can't Let You Go, and Voodoo combined. It's mellow rock and heartache. It's pain in its purest form. 

Everything else sucks. He's so fed up with it all. He fears that nothing will change, or that everything will, and they'll lose their one chance to make it right because Adam is adamant about not having anything with Tommy unless he's absolutely sure about what he wants. Sometimes he even regrets telling Adam that he won't settle for anything less than everything. At this point, he'd take something not-so-real over this nothing-is-happening bullshit.

At least they still write together, just not on Adam's bed, but still the same way, staying quiet, seeking only presence from each other. 

They're sitting on Adam's couch, legs crossed, notebooks and music sheets everywhere. Tommy plays, Adam hums, and for some reason, the pressure is gone for now. 

Tommy stops playing, holds the guitar closer to his chest, and looks at Adam. "What do you want to do when you grow up?" he asks because he feels like saying something silly. 

Adam laughs. "I don't know. You?"

"I'm contemplating world domination." He grins, then bites his lip. "I'd let you be my lackey."

Adam's eyes turn dark, but his smile is playful. "I'd so be a better ruler of the universe."

"You'd try to control everything, and you're horrible at delegating. And the worst part is that you'd try to save everyone." He looks at Adam with calculating eyes. "You'd last a week. Tops."

Adam huffs. "You'd forget in a day that you have billions of people to rule. I see you trying to concentrate on something... uuuh, shiny. And that's that."

"You said I'm more focused now."

"Did I?"

Tommy nods. "Your job would be reminding me every once in a while that my word is the law and I can't say shit on Twitter any more."

Adam's laughter is like music to him. It tickles his skin, makes him lean back on the couch, relaxed and happy. "I'd let you rule LA. Just because you're better at this whole entertainment thingy."

"You're the funniest person I know, and you don't even try."

"My funny side is reserved for a selected few. I don't flaunt." He closes his eyes, a huge smile on his face. 

"Sometimes you do," Adam says, sounding sweet. 

"Nobody's perfect."

This moment feels right on so many levels he can't even try to comprehend it. He lets it flow through him, lets himself feel whole and present and so, so happy he needs nothing more. Adam takes his hand, and it feels like something he knew would happen. His smile spreads even further. 

"I really like you," Adam says. "Like... you're one of the best people I know."

He knows. He feels the same way. 

Adam kisses him, and his happy-relaxed-mellow feeling is gone, and his heart is in his throat in a millisecond. It's a very chaste kiss like they've never kissed before, and it's over before Tommy can do anything. Adam coughs, then lets go of his hand, and he feels like there's an ocean between them. 

He wants to touch his lips because he can't believe it happened. He kind of doubts it happened. He wants to ask Adam if it did. 

Tommy opens his eyes and finds Adam staring at him. He wants to be a little happy, but he's too afraid. If he was someone braver he'd probably get on his knees, push Adam down on the couch, and kiss him. Because he's Thomas Joseph Ratliff he panics. He gets up, guitar in one hand, wiping the other to his jeans, and looks at Adam with deer-in-headlights eyes. "I'mma head home," he says. "To wash my hair or something." He laughs nervously when Adam doesn't say anything. 

He takes a step back, then another, then stops. No, he's not going to do this any more. He takes a steady stance, and stares at Adam, determined. "Don't fuck with me. Don't toy with me. Don't try anything sweet with me. I won't take it."

Adam stands up, takes a careful step closer. "I'm not toying with you. I wouldn't dare, and I couldn't even if I did dare."

"Okay." He looks at his guitar, then Adam. "What is this?"

"I'm hoping this is us starting something." Adam looks vulnerable, and that makes him panic even more. So this is real now. Just like that. All of a sudden. No warning what so ever. 

His heart has been breaking for months, and right now it should make a u-turn. And it's screaming, "Hell no!" He tries to breathe because he's kind of close to hyperventilating. 

"You look like you might faint," Adam says, holding out his hand. 

He's not fucking fainting. He's processing too much information at once. 

"Do you... still want this?" Adam is so open in that moment that Tommy can see clearly what he's doing: leaving himself unprotected. He trusts Tommy even though he can't know where this is coming from, why Tommy is acting this way. 

So, fuck it. Tommy walks up to Adam, crushes against him, and hugs him harder than ever before. "Yeah, okay. I do. Completely. I'm shocked. You surprised me. I'm really fucking bad with surprises. And I don't know how to react because... I don't. I'm unwilling to do anything right now because you've hurt me all this time. I can't change directions this quickly. But... yeah. Want. Need. Yearn. Fucking crazy about you. Since forever." He says all that to Adam's neck. He can't do better right now. 

He pulls away, sees that little ghost of a smile on Adam's face, and then grabs his things and leaves. Adam doesn't try to stop him, but he knows Adam is okay. He didn't hurt him. 

This is a fucking strange beginning.


	11. Chapter 11

Tommy sits on top of their kitchen table and drinks tea. He never drinks tea, but for some reason he went to buy it before he came home from Adam's place. It tastes a little bitter, but otherwise it's actually better than coffee. He's swinging his feet back and forth, staring into nothingness, listening to Manson. 

Mike's not home, and he's glad of that. This is not something he wants to share, not with Adam, not with Mike, not with anyone. Too private. 

It's almost hilarious. He stayed after so many fucked up things Adam put him through, but the one time Adam chooses him he runs. He can't wrap his mind around it, or he can, but he doesn't want to. He knows why, but it's just too much right now. 

Tommy reads one of Adam's text messages again: _Come online. I miss you. I really don't mind. Just want to talk._

He knows Adam doesn't mind; he saw it in Adam's eyes. Adam is willing to go through shit because of him, and it's not even a choice. Adam can't _not_ be there. 

His laptop is on the living room table. He stares at it for a little while longer, then jumps off the table and goes to grab it. He sits on his armchair, and clicks the Mozilla icon. 

Adam opens a chat window immediately when Tommy comes online. 

**Adam:** I was a little worried.   
**Me:** Why?  
 **Adam:** You were upset when you left. Driving and being upset are not a good combination. And you didn't answer any of my messages. :(   
**Me:** Sorry. Didn't think. You wanted to talk...  
 **Adam:** I want you here, but this is good too. :) I just want to know if I'm supposed to do something differently. Did I do something wrong?  
 **Me:** No. It's the whole thing. Not you. You are perfect.   
**Adam:** Really? :)   
**Me:** Yeah. I just... You have to keep doing that... or... keep convincing me. Make sure that I can... I don't know. Fuck.   
**Adam:** You have a hard time believing me?  
 **Me:** Yeah... It was a perfect moment, easy to act on those. Things seem to click, everything is so good and feels right. So yeah... I don't really trust this.   
**Adam:** It's okay.   
I want to see you. When can I see you?  
 **Me:** I want you to come over.   
And then, not.   
**Adam:** If I came there now would you open the door for me?  
 **Me:** You're impossible. I wouldn't let you up. I'd come down.   
**Adam:** Okay.   
**Me:** Okay what?  
Adam?  
Fuck! Are you coming here?  
 **Adam:** You didn't say no. Bye.  
 **Me:** What?   
Oh fuck.   
It's gonna be late.  
Adam? 

Impulsive motherfucker. Tommy pulls at his hair, groaning. He doesn't want to talk. He left because he needs time alone. If Adam comes over he's not alone. He'll be with Adam, and he can't work this out. They suck at this. 

He calls his mother because he needs to hear something. 

"Hello, dear," his mom says, her voice warm. 

This is not one of his brightest ideas. "Mom..." All of a sudden, he misses everything, memories rushing through him so fast he can't keep up with them. 

"What is it?" It sounds like she switches off the TV and concentrates on the phone call without any distractions. "Has something happened?"

"I just wanted to tell you that I love someone. I'm in love."

He can practically feel her excitement because she shrieks and then laughs freely. "Oh, really? That's... wonderful. Who is she?"

Yeah, that one. He probably shouldn't do this on the phone, but he needs her right now. "About that... Sit down, okay?"

"I am sitting down. What? Is she famous?"

Tommy bites his lower lip. He knows his mother, but this might still shock her a little too much. "It's Adam, mom. I love him." He closes his eyes, waits. 

"Oh... but... Are you sure?" She sounds like she hasn't quite understood it yet. 

"Yeah, I'm sure. That's why I've been miserable, but things are changing, and he wants me, too. We might end up together. We might start dating." 

"Really? I thought the kissing was just an act."

Of course she would say the least rational thing. "Um... it was. Partly."

"Which part?" She laughs a little nervously. "Should I talk to Leila?"

Probably a good idea. "Yeah... But can you do one thing for me first?"

She's quiet for a little while, then says, "What do you need?"

"Just tell me that this doesn't matter, that it doesn't change anything." His heart wants to burst through his chest. He knows the answer, but a very small part of him needs the reassurance. 

"Oh honey, of course this changes everything," she says softly. "We'll have a bigger family if things work out nicely." He can easily imagine her smile, the one that's a little wicked. "Just be happy, dear. And bring him home to see me." She pauses for a moment, then adds, "I've seen the way you look at him, and if he's serious about you I couldn't be happier for you two. Just... take care of yourself."

Tommy leans his head against the back of the armchair, so grateful he doesn't know what to say. "Thank you."

"I'm here if you need me," she says. "I'll call Leila now. Can I tell her? Please?"

He has no idea how much Adam has talked to his mother, but he's pretty sure Leila has no idea what's going on. "If you must."

Tommy is pretty sure most conversations with parents don't go that way, some of course do, but not all. He knows he's lucky to have the friends and family he has, but he also knows he was raised in a certain way. Their parents wanted him and his sister to be open-minded and accepting, and that led to him meeting all the people he calls friends now. Yeah, he's lucky, but he's also a product of his upbringing. 

It takes forever for Adam to arrive, and Tommy gets more nervous by the minute. He should be over this already. They've been through so much that this should be the easiest part. He should have been able to stay. 

Adam calls once, letting him know that he's downstairs, and Tommy grabs his keys and runs down the stairs. His feet are bare, but it's warm and the asphalt feels good under his feet. 

"Hi," Adam says when Tommy opens the door and sits next to him. 

Tommy nods, then closes his eyes because Adam touches his hair, pushes it behind his ear. He wasn't expecting that. 

"I'm glad you let me come."

He feels like a teenager, like he's never done this before, like everything is so fucking new he just doesn't know how to react. It is new, and he should give himself time, but he's impatient and annoyed with himself. 

"I want to tell you something," Adam says, his hand still touching his ear, fingers brushing his neck. 

"What?"

"I'm not choosing you." 

The words make his blood rush, but he also hears that Adam's not finished, and he knows that Adam is serious so this is something different, not what he thinks it is. 

"There's nothing to choose from. I want _you_."

He opens his eyes, stares at Adam. "I told my mom about you."

He's never seen such a smile on Adam's face, and he's seen lots of smiles on that face. It's like pure joy, crystal clear. 

"And I think she's gossiping about it with your mom right now."

Adam laughs, his palm cupping Tommy's neck, pulling him closer. "I love you." He doesn't kiss Tommy, just keeps him there, nose to nose, breathing the same air. 

Those three words hit him hard, and he tries to deal with the emotions that wreck havoc inside him. The funny thing is he never imagined that this would happen; he never thought it could. And now that it's happening the fucking walls around him are falling apart. He's been able to hold it together because of those. They were there for a reason, and now the reason is gone. 

"I love you," Adam repeats, and it sounds like he's expecting nothing in return, nothing. "And it makes me happy." His voice is almost gone when he says the last words. 

Tommy puts his hand on Adam's arm, the one that's keeping him close, and holds on. He can't say anything, but he's glad that Adam is saying these things, and that he doesn't need anything from him. 

"Yeah," Adam whispers. "So I want you in my life. And I'm so sorry it took me forever to get here."

Those words pull at the hopeful strings around his heart. His mind goes to all those directions that scream: relationship, something serious, lasting... He tries to breathe. 

"I want dates," Tommy finally says, and he knows he's crazy, but he's not going to do this any other way. "I know we've had almost two years worth of foreplay, but I'm not... Just do this for me."

Adam kisses him lightly, then says, "Anything."

"I don't trust this one bit, but I trust you so make me believe."

Adam pulls him into a hug. "Thank you."

"For what?" His arms are around Adam's neck, and he breathes nothing but Adam. 

"For not running away, for being able to wait, for your honesty. You have no idea how much you've done for me."

He had no choice. He couldn't walk away. But he also knows that Adam is right; he gave so much that this became possible. Right now, he fears he's given too much, and he can't pull things together, can't make it work, can't be what this requires of him. "I've never done this before," he says. "I've never been with a guy."

"I know."

"It's real now."

"Yeah."


	12. Chapter 12

The next day, Adam takes him to Verdugo Mountain that has an amazing view of Burbank and its surrounding areas. They walk up the hill, or rather hike which is really weird because neither of them usually does anything like this. He's not sure if this is a date or what, but he's having fun in a way he can't even describe. It has something to do with Adam's quiet cursing and the bag he's carrying and the sweat that's running down his neck. Tommy wants to hug him for this. It's different, and something he would've never guessed. 

They find a spot that's even and protected from direct sunlight, and Adam spreads a checkered blanket on the ground, beckoning for Tommy to sit down. They both do, and he leans back, resting his weight on his forearms. This is good. It's stressful, too, but everything Adam does makes things easier because he's so natural with this. Like when he picked Tommy up Adam just kissed him, didn't ask for permission, didn't hesitate. He does things because he wants to. Tommy hopes he'll learn to do the same. 

"Water?" Adam asks, and Tommy takes the bottle, thanking him. He doesn't want to get up, but he finds it a bit difficult to drink in this position so he compromises, turning on his side, facing Adam. 

They look at each other as they drink, and Tommy manages to be sloppy, water sliding down his chin and throat. He's very aware of Adam's eyes following the droplets. When Adam moves closer and licks Tommy's wet skin he blinks, shocked. He wonders if he'll ever get used to it. 

He takes hold of Adam's hair and pulls Adam back so he can lick his lips, steal back what he took. 

Adam just stares at him, so close he could do anything to Tommy, but he pulls back, and Tommy lets go of his hair, lingering, sliding his fingers against Adam's chin. 

The sound Adam lets out makes him smile. He has some kind of a power over Adam, and it's a little too intoxicating. 

"You own me, that's why," Adam says quietly as though reading Tommy's mind. 

He tries to accept the words, but they only twist his heart. He wants Adam to shut up and kiss him because talking seems dangerous and something that might destroy the fragile balance. He decides not to let go of Adam's chin, and grips it, pulling Adam closer. "Try kissing me then."

Adam's tongue fills him, and he opens up to it, sucking, yielding, letting Adam push him down on his back. Adam's fingers curl into his hair, his body lining with Tommy's, a knee between his thighs. The contact surprises him, makes his whole body throb, and he grabs Adam's shirt, fists tight. 

He pushes his head back to free his mouth, to let Adam lick-suck-bite his throat and the skin under his chin, so sensitive that for a second he can feel nothing but Adam's mouth on him. 

He's hard, and so is Adam, and it's a little overwhelming. Especially since he's at the receiving end. Adam licks a trail to his ear, then whispers, "You're so fucking hot I can't think."

Tommy pulls Adam down, puts his leg over Adam's thigh, and grinds against him, maybe testing a little, maybe unable to do anything else. 

Adam holds his breath, then bites Tommy's ear and licks the skin between his earrings. He's so not ready for any of the sensations that run through his body, and his back arches on its own, and he fucking hates himself for it. 

"God, you're beautiful. How can you be so perfect? Nobody looks like that."

He doesn't want Adam looking at him; it's too much without anyone's eyes on him. He grabs a handful of Adam's hair, and forces his head down, makes him do what he wants. The kiss is everything it hasn't been before. Adam slows down so much Tommy has no idea what to do with his rushing blood, or the colorful spots behind his eyelids. He doesn't want slow or gentle, yet that's what Adam chooses to give him right this moment, and he feels helpless against it. Adam's mouth covers his, takes everything into that slow sensual rhythm, and he loses it for a second, just lets go because there's nothing else he can do. 

Adam takes his wrist, pushes his hand above his head, and holds it there, and god, he wants this, wants so much he doesn't know how to be. 

They've never had the time to kiss like this, never had the chance, and Tommy finally understands what Adam is doing. He takes his time; he savors the moment. 

That changes everything, and Tommy relaxes, breathes into Adam's mouth, shows him he knows, and Adam's smile feels beautiful against his lips. 

They kiss for a long while, learning to know how it feels to have it like this, what it is that both of them want. It's nothing sexual even though the effect is the same; it's them finding a common language. 

Adam brushes his knuckles against Tommy's cheek, watching him, eyes soft but dark. He takes Tommy's lower lip between his teeth, pulls a little, then lets go. "You have no idea how gorgeous you look like this, kissed open."

He can guess, and it clouds his mind a little, makes his vision blurry. He looks like that for Adam. He's not sure if he's ever looked like that for anyone else. 

"Wanna eat something?" Adam asks, and when Tommy lets his eyes show just what he would like to eat, Adam laughs, so many colors in that sound. 

Adam moves a little, puts some space between them, but still holds on to Tommy's wrist, his eyes intense and burning. "I love you, this person you are, the way you observe things, how little you share, but when you do... it's always more than meaningful. Everything about you feels good here."

He can believe that, can try to accept it. "Don't you ever feel like there's nothing behind my eyes if I don't share things?" he asks because he knows Adam will give him an honest answer. "Not even before?"

Adam kisses him lightly and Tommy follows his mouth when he pulls back. "You don't fool anyone," Adam says, pushing Tommy's hair back, shifting a little so his whole weight rests on top of Tommy. It should be uncomfortable, but it isn't. He can't believe how good it makes him feel. He spreads his legs further and wraps them around Adam, and the way Adam's eyes darken tells him just how good it feels to him, too.

"God, you really shouldn't do that," Adam says, bowing his head, forehead touching Tommy's chin. 

"I really should." 

Adam thrusts against him, just this tiny movement of his hips, and Tommy's breath catches somewhere between words that he was about to say and thoughts that stopped existing. He blinks, and Adam holds on to his hand, pulls it close to Tommy's head, has him pinned beneath him in a way he's never been before. It messes with his head, but he tries not to let it get to him, tries to breathe a little. 

"See? You shouldn't," Adam whispers in his ear, then nuzzles his neck, moves again in that slow thoughtful way, almost like a wave rushing into the shore. 

Tommy tilts his head back, gasping for air, and Adam stops, gathers most of his weight on his arms and knees.

"This is our first date," Adam says, and Tommy looks at him, a little exasperated. "I'm not a saint," he explains further, and Tommy wants him to do less thinking and more fucking their brains out. But he knows what Adam wants, and he knows it's good for him, too, but a part of him wants to rush things so he wouldn't have to think about them any more. 

He calms himself, lets his legs relax and slide off Adam's thighs, breathes deep, but Adam feels too good, and he can't get rid of the tingly, over-sensitive feeling all around his body. He settles for lying still, not giving a damn that he's still hard for Adam. 

Adam kisses his chin, then smiles a brilliant smile. "You're the sexiest son of a bitch I've ever met."

Tommy laughs, relaxing even more. "I'm really happy you think so."

There's a short moment when he thinks Adam's going to kiss him again, but then he gets up, and his warmth is gone and Tommy shivers even though it's a warm summer day. Adam eyes him from head to toe, pausing where his t-shirt has ridden up and where his cock is clearly in need of attention. Adam ghosts his palm over his crotch for a few seconds, eyes never leaving his, but then he backs away and opens his bag. 

Tommy exhales, the weird control Adam has over him leaving him for now. 

"There're smoothies, muffins, sandwiches, and blueberry pie." Adam actually looks bashful. About food. "I hope you like them."

That does it. Fucking adorable person. Tommy moves quickly, pulls Adam into a hug from behind, just holds tight because he finally has the right. This person. These insanely intense moments. Their life. Fucking awesome. He can't put his thoughts or feelings into words; he's just not that articulate. But he tries anyway because it's Adam, everything he loves. "I don't think anyone could be this much to me. You fit. I want this. Like always. Can we do that?"

Adam isn't even breathing; he's just there, hands still holding a container full of blueberry pie. Tommy can't see his face, can't see anything, but he doesn't need to. Adam drops the container, puts his hands on top of Tommy's, and says, "If you want me."

"Yeah, I want to feed birds with you when we're old."

Adam snorts.

"I want to go places with you, see things, experience everything, all things because you're there, and it's different."

"Okay."

"You'll give me everything?" Tommy feels giddy with happiness, and he can't help the need to say these things out loud.

"Everything."

"And you'll let me pour all this on you? You won't shy away?"

Adam laughs. "It's easy to take what you give."

"Okay. I'll marry you one day. Just so you know. You don't have to worry about it at all."

Adam turns around in his arms, almost knocks them over, and then plants a very sloppy kiss on his lips, wet and messy. He loves it. 

"We need to eat something," Adam says against his lips. "Otherwise it won't be a date."

Tommy's mouth curves into a smile. "We're doing everything wrong anyway. I don't mind."

Adam puts his hand behind Tommy's back and lowers him on the blanket again, spreads him there, wide open. "I think I'll fall for you every day. Just a little more. Every day."

"Good." Tommy licks Adam's tongue, plays with it, the smile never leaving his lips.


	13. Chapter 13

Their next date a few days later doesn't go so well. The paparazzi surround them, flashes blinding Tommy when they approach the restaurant that serves the best Japanese food in town, according to Adam. He's not sure why Adam wanted to take him here. They could have stayed at home, could have sat on the couch, cuddling and watching something silly neither of them really cares about. Instead they're here, people yelling stupid things to them. Tommy even thinks he hears someone use the word fagot. He's not sure. He doesn't want to be sure. The outside world is violent and frustrating, and he really doesn't want to be a part of this. 

He's quiet when they get inside, only partly listening to Adam's animated story about his studio time today and the song that he's working on now. It's a special collaboration project that's supposed to support his album. It's all interesting, but he's feeling uncomfortable, and he doesn't like the way people keep looking at them, like they're wondering if he's taking it in the ass. 

"Why'd you bring me here?" he finally asks because it becomes too much. 

Adam tilts his head to the side, serious all of a sudden. "Because this is my life, too."

He hears Adam's silent plea: _Please, be able to handle this._ He wishes Adam had warned him, but otherwise he understands. Either he takes this, too, or it won't work. "I won't smile to them," he says, smiling to Adam, showing what he won't give. 

"I'd like that," Adam says with a tone that makes Tommy's spine tingle. So Adam wants to keep his smiles to himself? That makes him smile even more. 

_I love you,_ he mouths, watching Adam carefully, leaning over the table a little. _Want you._

Adam takes his hand, thumb stroking his, warm, gentle, and right there where people can see. He doesn't care. He wants a kiss, too, but the waitress brings their starters: miso soup and maguro no tataki, Tommy's favorite tuna dish. 

They eat, chat, flirt, throw dirty looks at each other, and just have fun. Tommy is feeling high and wild when they leave the restaurant, and he doesn't give a fuck that there's a herd of people waiting for them. He lets Adam take most of it, walking quickly behind him, his head bowed. When Adam answers questions and signs autographs he disappears into the car Adam rented for them. He waits there, fiddling with his phone, covering his face with his hand. 

When Adam sits next to him Tommy looks up and smiles. It's a reflex, and someone catches it on camera: him staring at Adam, smiling. He feels like giving them the finger, but chooses to do something else. “Wanna give them a show?” he asks, then suddenly fears Adam's answer. There are a million reasons why they shouldn't make it public, but there's one reason why he wants to: he doesn't fear it, not any more. 

Adam looks at his mouth for a few seconds, and then just leans in and kisses him. The car is lit by the flashes of the cameras, but Tommy closes his eyes, his hand in Adam's hair, his tongue in Adam's mouth. The car jerks forward, surprising him, and he loses his balance, falling against Adam's chest. 

Adam pushes his hair back, holds his shoulder, steadies him, and there's something very loving in those small gestures. 

Tommy pulls away, but quickly pecks Adam on the lips as an afterthought, then takes his phone out again. "Send a message to everyone who doesn't know already and who you want to find out from you," he says to Adam, and then starts typing a short text to everyone he hasn't yet called. The list is shorter than he thought. Glamily knows, so does his family, and a few closest friends, too. Adam's list is longer, but he knows more people anyway. 

He watches Adam as he chooses the people from his list of contacts. He looks serious, but also calm, like he's found a different kind of center for his life, something serene. When he's finished he turns to look at Tommy and says, "Thank you." 

Those two words put everything in perspective. Yeah, he's a private person. Yeah, he can't really deal with this kind of attention. But he knows exactly what he wants, and the person sitting next to him is pretty much everything to him. He'd go to the gates of Hell with him, and not just because he would be intrigued. 

And he thinks Adam finally knows it, too. 

Their phones start beeping almost at the same time, people sending messages back. Most of the ones Tommy receives are surprised congratulations, but he also gets one "Where's my wedding invitation?" and one "WTF, man, you never tell me shit!!" He laughs at them, and sends a few messages back, warning them that it's public, too, and hopefully no one will think that it would be a good idea to contact his friends for more information. He gets another round of messages saying: "My lips are sealed." 

"I have the best friends," he says to Adam who's typing like crazy. 

"I have too many friends. My fingers will be bloody before this is over. I blame you and your sneaky tongue."

Tommy sticks his tongue out, and Adam's eyes go dark, but he steers his gaze back to his phone, concentrating on writing. "Keep your tongue to yourself, or I won't be held responsible for the consequences."

That makes him laugh and also wonder what he could do to make Adam reveal those consequences. He puts his hand on Adam's thigh, just keeps it there even though Adam jumps a little, his breath catching. He likes the effect he has on Adam, likes it way too much. He knows the smile on his face is more than a little wicked. 

"You're untrustworthy," Adam complains, but does nothing to shake Tommy off. 

He takes that as an invitation, and lets his hand slide along Adam's leg, the muscles under his fingers flexing and then relaxing. Adam's legs are to die for. He's never seen legs like that on a guy, and he's never seen anyone use them like Adam does. Adam has managed to surprise him many times with his strength and flexibility, and also with the imaginative way he moves. Adam has no fear for making his body do exactly what he wants, and that's fascinating to Tommy. 

His hand finds its way between Adam's thighs, and he loves the way Adam spreads them, just a little. Tommy wouldn't even notice if his hand wasn't where it is, but the pressure gives in a little, and he has more room to play. 

He glances at Adam's face, but Adam is still writing, frowning in concentration. Nothing tells him that Adam has even noticed Tommy's hand, except the small gap between his lips, the way he breathes a little lighter. 

Tommy fans out his fingers, forefinger brushing against Adam's crotch, and he smiles when Adam swallows a groan. That sound, he wants to hear it again. It becomes a game of Tommy trying to figure out how to make Adam lose his cool and Adam continuing to ignore him. He's done this to a girl on a backseat of a moving car: played with the idea but not quite doing it because it's more fun this way. Adam seems to think so, too, because he finally reacts, leaning his head back and bucking against Tommy's hand. The first movement he meant to do, the second, not so much. 

The heat is incredible, and he wants to cup Adam through his pants, wants to squeeze a little, but he won't do it. And because he's not doing anything Adam presses his thighs together, creating some kind of a friction and capturing Tommy's hand efficiently. 

"God, you're frustrating," Adam mutters, and Tommy just laughs. He knows. He's a tease. 

The car stops, and they look at each other, a short moment passing between them, and then Adam relaxes his thigh muscles, letting Tommy pull his hand away. They're home. 

All the way to the front door Adam is crowding his personal space, too close, too much, too intense, and Tommy loves it. They manage to get inside without causing a scene, but that's that. Tommy gets pressed against the door before he can take off his shoes or jacket, Adam's hands in his hair, a thigh between his legs. "You did this," Adam says close to his ear, rubbing himself against Tommy's hip. 

He did. He bites his lip, then asks, "Gonna kiss me now?" his voice all breathy. 

"No." Adam hauls him forward, and turns him around, back against Adam's stomach. He's looking at his own reflection in the mirror, his hands on top of the chest of drawers. His heart is racing because this is the same fucking spot where Adam pushed the boundaries of their relationship and made him cream his pants like a teenager. 

Adam is watching him, too, his eyes following the angles of Tommy's jaw and throat. Adam yanks him so close to himself, Tommy can feel all the hard lines of his body pressing against him. "Stay close," Adam says, and he nods, swallowing. The hand around his chest feels almost too heavy, so heavy it's hard for him to breathe. He closes his eyes, but then Adam licks the skin behind his ear and says, "Keep your eyes open. I want you to watch."

It's his second nature to close his eyes when something feels this good, but he tries to remember Adam's words, just to please him a little. He forgets all about it when Adam releases the hold around his chest, moves his hand up, circling it around Tommy's throat briefly, and then traveling up, tracing Tommy's jawline with his fingertips. It's fucking hard to keep his eyes open when he can't concentrate on remembering such things. 

"You have perfect lips," Adam whispers against his skin. "And you're always ready for me, even the first time. Even then you just let me take you, no resistance whatsoever."

Adam's fingers slide past his lips, and when Tommy lets out a breath Adam pushes two of his fingers inside his mouth. Just like that, no warning. 

Tommy flexes his arm muscles, pushing back because Adam isn't holding him close anymore. He needs that contact. It's so fucking hot to look at the expression on Adam's face when he's looking at him, his fingers in his mouth. Adam fucks his mouth with his fingers, and he groans low in his throat, barely breathing. 

"And you're doing it now, too," Adam says, kissing the side of his face. "Giving it to me. You have no idea how much I want to find out if you're like this when I fuck you for real." 

Adam's other hand moves lower, opening his belt buckle and the button of his jeans, getting his fly open. Adam pushes his hand inside his pants, palms him through his briefs. "God, you're warm."

He whimpers around Adam's fingers, pushing harder against Adam's erection, so turned on he can't do anything but feel, can't need anything but Adam's hand around his cock right the fuck now. 

He's so not going to last more than a few minutes. 

Finally Adam's hand slides past the waistband of his briefs, finds his cock and just holds on, a comforting pressure against his aching body. He looks at Adam, pleads for him to move his hand, to do something, and then he does, both hands moving at the same time, and Tommy's in a blissful heaven, his mind shattering into tiny pieces, his vision blurring. He blinks, wants to see, wants to feel, but he's out of it. He rest his head against Adam's shoulder, breathing so hard it's ridiculous. 

Adam adds a third finger into his mouth, and that does it. He shoots his load all over Adam's hand and his pants. A fucking gorgeous mess. Adam continues to jerk him off through the aftershocks of his orgasm, fingers still in his mouth but stilled, silent. 

When he's able to think again he realizes that Adam is holding him, the only thing still keeping him upright, and Adam is kissing his neck, these soft little pecks against his sweaty skin. "Love you," Adam says quietly. 

His mouth feels a little weird, his jaw hurting because of too much pressure, but otherwise he's probably never felt better in his life. He wants to laugh and maybe even cry a little, but he does neither. He just stares at Adam. Then a thought strikes him. "What about you?" he says, trying to turn around, but his legs aren't yet carrying him, and Adam wouldn't let him move anyway. 

"Is okay," Adam says, blushing, but not out of embarrassment. Maybe out of happiness. "You do wonders to me. I haven't done that in a long time."

The smile that spreads on Tommy's face is wide as hell. "You came just from watching me?" He feels smug. 

"You're fucking porn star material. Nobody should look like that."

Tommy laughs, pleased beyond anything he could ever explain. "I'm glad I can do that to you."

Adam pulls him into a tight hug. "Shower. Bed. Sleep."

"Sounds like a plan," Tommy says, quietly pleased that he won't be sleeping in the guest bedroom tonight. Things changed, shifted to something new. "I don't usually put out on a second date," he tells Adam, sounding all serious. "Don't think I'm easy."

Adam nuzzles his neck. "I think you're the easiest person I've ever known. Nothing's ever been this comfortable, this simple. You're like this source of never-ending peace and calm. You're so fucking honest with everything. You make it easy." 

He wasn't expecting this kind of a confession, and it breaks him a little, pulls down the last walls, like they are paper and nothing more. Adam settles inside him, somewhere close to his core. It hurts, but in a good way. "Yeah, okay. You can have me."

Adam brushes his hair off his face, kisses his jaw. "This is what I mean. You say things like that like it's easy, like everyone does that, like it's the norm and not some kind of a quirky trait of yours. You're so fucking perfect, and I fear I'll mess this up, too. Please, don't let me do that."

Tommy turns around in Adam's arms, carefully avoiding Adam's come-filled right hand, then looks up. "Whatever you do won't be so bad. Just choose me every day." 

The look in Adam's eyes is pure gratitude. 

"And I'm not perfect. I'm actually pretty annoying person if you spend too much time with me. And I need a lot of space. And I'm never going to be social in groups. I'll piss you off; it's a promise. But I will love you." 

Adam takes hold of the back of his head, spreads his fingers there, and pulls him into a kiss. It's a gentle, soft kiss with underlying tension within it, something Adam tells him this way when he doesn't have words. It's something about owning him, and he's completely okay with it. 

He's a strong person, and this makes him even stronger.


	14. Chapter 14

_It must have been cold there in my shadow,  
to never have sunlight on your face.  
You were content to let me shine, that's your way.  
You always walked a step behind._

_So I was the one with all the glory,  
while you were the one with all the strength.  
A beautiful face without a name for so long.  
A beautiful smile to hide the pain._

_Did you ever know that you're my hero,  
and everything I would like to be?  
I can fly higher than an eagle,  
'cause you are the wind beneath my wings._

[The Wind Beneath My Wings](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jjAqjNQ4pqA&feature=related) by Sonata Arctica (Bette Midler cover)

 

Tommy doesn't sleep much, and when he does it all happens during odd hours. He's learned to use those sleepless moments creatively without stressing over not sleeping. Sometimes he cleans (that was actually not a joke when he tweeted about it). Sometimes he reads. Sometimes he just stares into the darkness, and thinks about things. Most of the time he watches something, or lurks on Twitter. Sometimes he even goes for a walk. 

Right now, he feels. 

It's the first time he shares a bed with Adam, and it's pretty damn weird. Adam is a furnace, his arm around Tommy's waist, just resting there. It feels sweet, which kind of makes him want to gag because he's never thought about it like this, like having someone's arm there, heavy and protective, is something he needs. 

His hands are under his cheek, and he's looking at Adam as he sleeps, as he breathes long and deep, so quiet Tommy can't hear him at all. He wonders how it's possible that Adam sleeps like that. He thought Adam would snore at least a little. He knows he sometimes does. But no. Adam is quiet in his sleep, a complete opposite to his waking hours. 

Adam doesn't look young like people usually do when they're peaceful. He doesn't look any different; he's just quiet, like his voice needs to rest, too. 

Adam's knee is touching his, and that arm is there, loosely around his waist, but otherwise there's space between them, should be enough for Tommy to fall asleep, too, but he can't. His mind is awake even though his body is craving for rest. 

Sometimes it frustrates him. Mostly he's so used to it that when he actually sleeps more than six hours a night he feels a little weird, like he's not quite himself. 

"Awake?" Adam mumbles, pulling Tommy closer and turning on his back. 

Tommy kisses his temple, willing Adam to go back to sleep. 

"Want some company?" Adam asks, his eyes closed. He looks like he's still dreaming, his voice coming from afar. 

He leans his chin against Adam's chest, puts his arm around him, and says softly, "It's okay. Sleep."

Adam smiles. "I could make you exhausted." The smile turns sinful, and Tommy can only laugh. 

"You could."

Adam pulls him on top of himself, back against his chest, and he ends up between Adam's thighs, Adam's warmth circling him. There's no way he can ever get used to Adam hauling him wherever he wants however he wants. He kind of likes the manhandling, but it's also weird. 

"You like that," he says, tilting his head back to look at Adam in the eyes. "Being able to do anything to me."

The way Adam laughs tells him exactly how much he enjoys it. "You have no idea."

"What if I told you it makes me feel weak?" He isn't serious, but he wants to know what Adam thinks.

Adam's hands slide over his stomach and sides, gentle but teasing. Tommy wants to squirm a little because it tickles but he stays still. "Does it?"

"Just answer me," he says, capturing one of Adam's hands, pulling it close to his mouth. He kisses the fingers, one by one. 

"I'd stop doing it." The answer is very matter-of-fact, and there's not a hint of regret behind it.

Tommy licks Adam's palm, then bites the side of his hand. "I won't lie; it's weird." He pauses, thinking how to explain what he feels. "But... It's also relaxing." That makes him blush because, god, he sounds stupid. In a way, he is a high-strung person, and even though he's very used to taking care of himself he likes it when Adam overpowers him. It has nothing to do with being weak and everything to do with being able to let go. With Adam he can do that. "I like the fact that with you, I don't have to control everything all the time."

Adam kisses the top of his head but says nothing. 

"So yeah..." He looks at Adam again. "You have my permission to do whatever you like. I trust you." When Adam still doesn't say anything he adds as an afterthought, "No weird kinky shit, though. I'm mostly vanilla."

Nothing prepares him for the look on Adam's face, like he's just received the best gift ever. "Unraveling the mystery that's you will be life-altering," Adam says, tilting Tommy's head up for a kiss. "You say a lot considering how little you talk."

Tommy stretches his back, capturing Adam's lower lip with his teeth. They should be talking a lot less right about now. He bites a little too hard, and Adam growls, gripping his throat. That one, always such a pleasure. He smirks, looking at Adam defiantly, enjoying the way Adam's hold tightens. He lets go of Adam's lip because he wants to see what happens next. 

"You," Adam says, squinting his eyes. 

He bites his own lip, then turns around in Adam's lap, wrapping his legs around one of Adam's thighs. Both of them are wearing nothing but pajama pants, and those hide nothing. He's kind of anxious to see what's poking him on his hip. He tells Adam that. 

"Please tell me you're noisy in bed," Adam murmurs against his ear, lips brushing his skin, searching. 

Tommy thinks he might be. 

Adam turns them around, puts his knee between Tommy's thighs, his hands sliding under Tommy's shoulder blades, and then sucks his neck, licking the skin there. It feels too good, and it steals his mind, makes him look for something to hold on to, something solid. He stretches his arms towards the head of the bed, grabs the metal there. "Fuuuck." It's too much sensation at once. Sensory overload. And Adam hasn't even started yet. 

He tries to breathe, but whenever he feels like he'll be able to catch his breath, Adam does something new and he can't, can't for the life of him remember how to do that simple act. 

Adam loves to lick his skin, loves to play with his nipples, loves to tease him, and if it wasn't so crazy-hot he'd love it, too. "Just... please, Adam." He kicks with his feet, tries to create friction, anything, something to relieve the need. "Fucking touch me already," he growls in frustration, and Adam dares to laugh, happy and light, like Tommy's not writhing beneath him. 

"Fucker," he tries to mutter, but Adam mouths him through his pajama pants and the word dies on his lips. Bright lights explode in his mind, and he actually fucking screams. His heart is insanely loud in his ears, shutting out everything else. And then there's nothing between Adam's mouth and his dick, and he can't remember ever feeling anything this good. 

"Oh God..."

Adam lets out a sound, some kind of a whine, like it's too good for him, too. He stops sucking Tommy and says, "If you keep making sounds like that I'm not... just..."

Tommy gets it, bites his upper arm and tries to stay quiet, but it's difficult because Adam's mouth is more than blissfully brilliant. 

Then he feels Adam's fingers moving lower, rubbing against his hole, and he feels weird, his stomach muscles clenching. 

Adam licks a trail down his thigh, then says, "Let me. Please."

And he lets, every bone in his body Adam's, every part of his skin Adam's, every piece of him belonging to this person. 

"Holy fuck... Adam." His whole body tenses, then relaxes, and he's not sure what to do with himself. What to be, how to exist. He just feels, lets Adam's tongue play with him. And God, he's never going to get used to _this_. 

After a while, Adam pulls away, leaves him for a second, and his chest heaves, heart beating so fast it's insane. 

He hasn't let go of the metal bars of the bed, and he's glad there's something to hold on to because Adam's fingers are fucking huge and his back is arching too much, too soon. And then Adam's hands are soothing at his sides, feather-like kisses showering his chest and shoulders, bringing him back, pulling him closer to this moment, this person. 

He looks at Adam, and knows his eyes are huge, knows there's something important in the way he wraps his arms around Adam, pulls him closer, and Adam rocks against him, holds on to him, kissing him, whispering nonsense in his ear, and it's incredible and painful and love. 

There's nothing he'd give away of this moment. 

"I love you," Adam says, voice soft and quiet. "Love you. So much. I love you."

Tommy pushes Adam's hair off his face, kisses him. "So much," he repeats.

He doesn't want to get up, doesn't want to do anything. Usually after sex he likes to go to the shower - sweaty and messy business, sex - but this time he just wants to stay here, no matter how sticky everything will be in the morning. His mind is completely mellow, and he sees the same in Adam's eyes. 

"I'm not moving," Adam says. "I'mma fall asleep here." He rests his whole weight on Tommy, and laughs when Tommy grunts. 

He doesn't try to push Adam away. He just continues to stroke the side of his head, looking into his eyes. Yeah, this love is so worth it. So, so worth it. "I love you."

Adam's laughter dies, his heart in his eyes. "You have no idea how grateful that makes me. Everything about you... Thank you." Adam kisses him, soft and sweet. 

Adam pulls away long enough to throw away the condom, and then he wipes Tommy as clean as possible with one corner of the blanket. Tommy stretches, wincing a little but feeling like a cat, lazy and comfortable. "Take care of me, bitch," he says to Adam, and then laughs when Adam jumps on him. 

The tickling is torture, and he begs for mercy very, very soon. 

"You're lucky I love you so much. Otherwise you'd suffer." Adam pushes Tommy's hands against the mattress, then slides them above his head. His knees are between Tommy's thighs, and he lowers his head, sneaky expression on his face. "I should make you suffer anyway." He licks Tommy's chin and lips, then bites the tip of his nose. "I really should."

Tommy squirms under Adam, trying to free his hands, but it's useless. Adam even traps his legs so he can't move at all. He lifts his head up and bites Adam's neck, not hard, just a little nip. 

And then he's completely under Adam, every part of their bodies touching, Adam's hands in his hair. "I really want to sleep like this," Adam says next to his ear. "Can you handle my weight?"

He wants to, but he's not sure. "Maybe."

Adam moves a little, finding the most comfortable position and settles there, his body warm and a little sweaty. Tentatively, Tommy lets his fingers slide over Adam's sides, loving the feel of Adam's skin and every little move of his body. Yeah, he could stay here forever. 

"Will you be able to sleep?" Adam asks, kissing his neck. 

"Not if you keep talking."

Adam giggles, then says, "I hope I can continue to annoy you for the rest of my life."

Tommy tries not to laugh but fails. He feels too happy. "Please do."

Yeah, this and many more wonderful things - he can have them every day.

***

Tommy lies on his stomach on the couch of Adam's music room. He has Adam's headphones on, and he's listening to jazz of all things. The melancholy tones don't really fit his current mood, but there's something about jazz that he likes. John Coltrane is his favorite at the moment.

He doesn't know where Adam is, but it doesn't matter. Adam is home, though, close but not too near. He has to admit that he is surprised by how much room Adam gives him, and how little Adam needs him to be there to listen to his endless chattering. It amuses him, too, especially since it's not difficult for him to follow Adam's excited tales. He rather enjoys them.

He's reading Triptych by Karin Slaughter, and it's pretty damn good. He likes the gore, and the harshness of the tone, but also the emotional imbalance of the characters. Adam recommended her, and he doesn't wonder why. Will Trent is one cool character.

The earphones get pulled off his head, and he looks up, surprised. "I asked if you want to eat out, order something, or cook something," Adam says, crouching beside him, a playful smile on his face.

Tommy purses his lips, knowing quite well that it will pull Adam's attention to where he wants it. Adam rests his elbows on the couch, but doesn't lean close enough to kiss. 

"Cook me something," Tommy says, then bites his lip. He meant that to be a joke, but it sounds like a request.

Adam buries his nose in Tommy's hair, inhales. "You know I'd do anything for you, but I'm a really lousy cook."

"I don't care." Now he actually really, really wants it. "Please."

Adam's laugh is a little pained. "Yeah..." He nuzzles Tommy's neck, licks his earlobe, then moves away. "Watcha want?"

He catches himself when he follows Adam's movement, tries to stay close. It's silly, but he sometimes feels like there's a thread connecting them, and he's helpless against its pull. Like now. Or maybe it's just Adam's magnetism. He smiles at the thought, and Adam looks at him with keen eyes. 

"Breakfast."

The expression on Adam's face is nothing but pure pleasure. "It's four, and making breakfast is not cooking."

"I'm easy."

Adam takes his face between his hands. "Yes, you are. So fucking easy."

 

The End


End file.
